City of Heavenly Fire: The Officially Unofficial Fan Fiction
by MortalHeart1430
Summary: Jace, Clary and the rest of the team are home after the battle against Sebastian and his Dark Shadowhunters. Jace has become very protective of Clary, so when Sebastian takes her, Jace will stop at nothing to get her back. Battles are fought and relationships are forged, tested, and destroyed in this stunning (Fan Fiction) conclusion to Cassandra Clare's The Mortal Instruments.
1. Prologue

**_Prologue_**

Clary raised her blood-stained hand to cup Jace's unmoving face. The battle that raged behind her slowly faded into background noises as her mind began to finally process what had happened. The blade...Jace's stunned expression...Clary yelling his name as he crumpled to the ground. She had run to him, but everything had seemed like it was moving in slow motion, like a nightmare.

Finally, though, she had reached him. Jace's hand was over the wound, the blade grotesquely sticking out of it. He had turned his face toward hers, his eyes heavy and half lidded. Frantically, she'd put one hand over the wound, and pulled the seraph blade out with her other hand before placing it on the wound as well.

"Jace?" she'd whispered, the tears she'd held back making her voice hoarse. "Jace, no. Come on, you can't... You can't leave me... You're going to be alright-."

"Clary," Jace had said softly. He had taken one of her hands in his. "'I love you and I will love you until I die, and if there is a life after that, I'll love you then.' Remember when I said that to you?"

Unable to speak, Clary had just nodded.

"I meant it. I have never stopped loving you. Now, I guess I get to see if there really is a life after this to keep loving you in." He had laughed weakly, but was soon arrested by a fit of coughing. He had drawn his hand out of hers and put it over his mouth. When he had brought it down, it had come away red. The tears had fallen past her eyelids freely now.

"No," Clary had sobbed. "Jace, I can't lose you again. Please. You can't... I mean, you've survived everything else. You survived Valentine and Jonathan and Lilith and Angels and Demons. You've survived everything up until now. Hell, Jace, you've been stabbed before. _Twice._ And one of those times was with an Angel sword that caught fire," she laughed softly through her tears. "You have survived everything, Jace. We haven't come this far for you to die now. Not here, not like this."

"I love you, Clary. And I'm sorry." A tear fell down Jace's face as he brought a hand to brush away a tear of her own. She thought of what he had told her one time, in the first few weeks they had known each other, when he had told her the story of a boy and his hunting falcon. _The boy never cried again, and he never forgot what he learned: that..._

"To love is to destroy," Clary said, sadly.

"And to be loved," Jace finished almost inaudibly, "is to be the one destroyed." The edges of his mouth curved slightly into a weak smile.

Then, Jace's face went slack, his eyes finally slipping closed, and Clary realized with a sudden sinking in her heart that he would never open those gorgeous golden eyes again. Her before silent tears turned into sobs that racked through her entire body as she bent over Jace's lifeless form and grieved; grieved for everyone she had lost in the past few hours.

Eventually, though she still shook, her eyes had grown dry with no more tears to shed. She took a deep breath as she sat up slowly, running her fingers slowly and gently through Jace's hair. A voice carried over the sounds of the battle behind her-a voice that made rage surge through her veins like adrenaline.

"Ave atque vale, Shadowhunter," said Meliorn. "Or at least, to the poor excuse of one that was Jace Lightwood." Clary put her hand on Jace's cheek one last time, and then she began to rise from her knees. Almost completely against her own volition, Clary reached suddenly for the sword that had just ended Jace's life, as well as a part of hers. She thought maybe she had been fast enough-but Meliorn was even faster than Jace had been.

The Faerie Knight's foot snapped down on the blade, holding it firmly in place. With his other foot, he kicked out at Clary, sending her flying back onto Jace's limp body. Clary saw stars for a moment, but she recovered quickly. However, she was already too late, as Meliorn had kicked away the seraph blade, pulling out a blade of his own and was now holding the tip level with her neck. Clary stilled instantly to prevent any accidental injury.

"You stupid Nephilim. You have always thought you were better than us, but have you ever stopped to think who the most powerful of the few of us is? You are a Shadowhunter. And not even a good one, at that. I am one of the most powerful Faerie Knights of the Seelie Court. I have been around for many years. I know a thing or two, little girl." Clary flinched at the name, as it reminded her of the first time she had met Jace... At the gesture of weakness, Meliorn smiled a crooked smile, with sharp white teeth like a shark's shining through. He inclined his head toward Jace. "The Queen will be displeased. This one was one of her favorite toys. I do so wonder how she shall entertain herself now." Meliorn pushed the sword forward ever so slightly so that it was pressed up against Clary's throat. "If your Jace had just stayed out of our way, this would never have happened." The sword kissed Clary's neck, causing a pinching sensation and a drop of blood to form."So, what about you, Valentine's daughter? Will you join us, and help bring an end to the way the Nephilim have unjustly ruled, or will you choose the losing side like your precious Jace?"

Clary looked out of her peripheral vision-still afraid to turn her head for fear of risking decapitation-at Jace. _Her_ Jace. She thought he could have been sleeping as peaceful as he looked. But, in her heart, she knew the truth. She looked fiercely back at Meliorn. "I will never join with your side," she snarled at him. "So do what you want. Jace died for what he believed in." Her voice cracked on the word "died"; she still wanted to believe it had never happened, that this was all just a bad dream. She cleared her throat and began again. "I won't ever betray him."

"Suit yourself," Meliorn said lazily. He raised the sword and, after a moment's hesitation, brought the blade down-.


	2. Chapter 1: No More Secrets

Part One

**Love and Truth**

"I hope that real love and truth are stronger in the end than any evil or misfortune in the world."

-Charles Dickens, _David Copperfield_

**1**

**No More Secrets**

_**A week earlier. . .**_

"No," Jace said plainly as he went over to grab the knife stuck in the wooden target on the wall of the Institute's training room. His face was calm, but his words held thinly-veiled contempt.

"Jace-" Clary began.

"No. This is not up for discussion." Jace thrust the knife toward Clary hilt-first. "Now try it again."

Clary sighed, but took the knife up anyway, squaring her shoulders and preparing to throw it again. Quickly, she snuck a glance over at Jace, who had leaned himself up against a wall, his arms crossed over his chest as he watched her.  
He always seemed to be watching her. Ever since Jace had healed from the battle at the Seventh Sacred Site, he had watched her, never letting her out of his sight. She wouldn't have cared, had he not taken this "guardian" position of his beyond the point of insanity. Instead of staying with her mother and Luke at Luke's row house near the East River, Jace had insisted to Jocelyn that Clary move in to her own room at the Institute, a protected place where he didn't have to be that far away from her at any given moment. Jace and Jocelyn had argued fiercely over the issue, both asserting their ability to take care of Clary, a fact that annoyed Clary immensely-as if she didn't know how to protect herself. Ultimately, after a conversation with Maryse Lightwood, Jocelyn had finally conceded, but only on the condition that both Maryse and Jace would swear on the Angel that nothing would happen to Clary there.

Jace hadn't wasted any time in continuing Clary's training. Though Clary was happy that she was getting to spend more time with Jace, she was very irked that this time was usually spent with him trying to teach her how to decapitate an opponent easily or how to land on her feet when she fell from four stories up without breaking a single bone. She was even more irked on days like this, when it was beautiful outside, and she wanted to go for a walk alone or wanted to go to the park to draw the gorgeous new fallen snow on the ground near the duck pond with soft watercolors. Jace, however, made it very clear that such activities were not to be tolerated under his military-like watchful eye.

"You're joking, right?" he'd asked. "There's no way I'm letting you go off by yourself with no protection." When Clary had insisted, Jace, instead of being a grown up and talking about it, had decided that they should spend the day holed up in the training room in heavy gear, practicing all kind of battle tactics. That had been three hours ago. Now, Clary was growing agitated; she had hit the center of the target each of the past six times she'd thrown the knife, and yet Jace was always finding at least one more thing she could improve on. This time, that one thing happened to be her focus.

"You know," Jace grumbled, "if you'd stop talking about these ridiculous fantasies of yours and actually focused on the sharp, deadly knife you were throwing, we could be done with all of this in no time."

"That's it," Clary hissed, and she turned to Jace, throwing the knife without looking. The dagger flew through the air, landing dead center in the painted bull's eye. "Jace, why? Why are you so opposed to me leaving the Institute for even just a second?"

"You are entirely welcome to leave the Institute any time you'd like." He gracefully straightened up, waving a hand toward her. "Let's take a break from the knife for a while. How about something that actually requires your entire focus. Get in your fighting stance."

Clary, though crossly, did as she was told.

"Now, come at me. We aren't ending this lesson unless you can take me down in hand to hand combat." Jace brought his hands up to cover his face and bounced on the balls of his feet awaiting the first attack.

"I meant," Clary said, circling her opponent, waiting for her moment to strike, "without a chaperone. Or a bodyguard or whatever the Hell else you want to play that day."

Clary started forward, punching out with her right arm. Jace ducked out of the way of it without even blinking. Clary, losing her balance, fell forward onto her hands and knees painfully. She glared back up at Jace. He smirked arrogantly, which only made her want to take him down that much more. "Like I said," Jace gloated, "stop talking and focus on what you're doing."

Clary jumped to her feet in one swift move, though she almost lost her balance again-she still hadn't acquired the magical Shadowhunter grace that every other member of the Clave seemed to possess. "You haven't let me out of your sight in almost a month now," she grumbled, rushing him again, this time knocking him off his feet. Her legs straddled his hips, her feet holding down his arms by his side and her forearm on his neck, holding his head firmly in place as she spoke. It was a move Jace himself had taught her and one that was very advantageous to those who were "vertically challenged," as Jace had put it. "And it's driving me crazy!"Jace struggled under Clary, but her grip was unbreakable. She shrugged philosophically as she continued speaking. "I need just a little space. To think, to move. To do anything, really, without you breathing down my neck."

"Well I don't think that's quite fair," said Jace breathlessly. "I don't _just _breathe down your _neck_. I'd say I breathe more down your arms and your face and your-"

"Not helping," she said irritably. Jace struggled once more to free himself of his girlfriend's grasp but found the gesture futile.

"When did you get so strong?" he huffed.

"When you and my crazy brother decided to try to make me drink from the Infernal Cup, I decided I'd spent way too much time ignoring my instincts and my training. You really are a great teacher, you know," she added, smiling down at him.

Jace wriggled once again under her. "Okay, fine, you've made your point. You win. Can you please get off of me now?"

Clary cocked her head sideways, studying him. "I don't know. I like the view from here."

"Clary, I'm warning you-."

"_You're_ warning _me_? Last time I checked, I'm the one who's winning right now, Jace."

His mouth quirked up in an evil grin, and, before Clary could react, she felt a searing heat on the arm that she held up against Jace's throat. She cried out in pain, standing up quickly and backing away, her uninjured arm caressing the other. Jace, moving in his remarkably-fast-even-for-a-Shadowhunter way, seized the opportunity. He jumped up, staying low in a crouch, and then he pushed off the ground and swung his feet around, knocking into Clary's legs and making her fall forward. As she fell, Jace put out a hand to keep her from hitting the ground too hard, and before Clary realized what had happened, she was lying on her back on the floor of the Training Room, with Jace looming over her and his right hand pinning down both of hers above her head. She didn't even bother struggling-she knew Jace was stronger than even the most experienced Shadowhunters.

"That doesn't count. You didn't fight fair," Clary complained. "You cheated."

Jace brought up his left hand to gently move a stray scarlet strand of her hair out of her face. "I did. And so will Sebastian." Jace planted a light kiss on Clary's cheek and let go of her arms and she shoved him off of her, suddenly furious.

"So that's what you're afraid of?" She asked incredulously, standing up and brushing off her clothes from the dusty floor. "You're afraid Sebastian is coming back?"

"Do I really have to answer that question?"

"Sebastian is gone, Jace," Clary said patiently. "He's not coming back for me. We haven't seen him since the battle. He's not going to risk getting caught trying to come after me."

"Clary, he is obsessed with you. He may have lost the battle and the dark Nephilim he made, but he still has the Infernal Cup. And even that's not enough for him. He won't stop until he has you, and I won't let that happen."

Jace turned, striding over to the target and examining the knife sticking out of it. "Not a bad shot."

Clary ignored him. "You can't keep me a prisoner here forever, Jace."

Jace turned back to her, the corners of his mouth quirked up into a devilish grin. "That sounds like a challenge."

"Not a challenge, Jace. A threat. You have to let me out of your sight sometime."

Jace sauntered back over to her, the knife in his hand. He threw an arm around Clary's shoulders, and she could feel the heat of the heavenly fire inside of Jace that still emanated from him when he was angry or got his heart rate up. "I agree. And I will," he said, slipping the knife into its sheath on Clary's weapons belt. "As soon as your brother is either imprisoned in the Silent City or dead." Clary rolled her eyes, but she couldn't help cracking a smile. Jace planted a light kiss on her forehead, careful not to burn her, and released her. "Now come on. Let's go for a walk in the park."

"Actually, I was thinking of the greenhouse. I haven't been up there in a while. Since my birthday."

Jace laughed softly. "Well," Jace said dramatically, though good-naturedly, "a trip to the wonderful New York Institute Greenhouse may be possible if it is what you want." He picked up one of Clary's hands, caressing it in his own.

Clary squeezed his hand, smiling at him endearingly. "Let's go then."

* * *

Alec stopped pacing and walked up to the door again. He hadn't intended on coming here. He'd been wandering the streets on patrol, thinking that maybe he could bury himself in killing demons enough so that he would be able to forget what had happened with Magnus and move on. Somehow, though, he had ended up not in a demon nest or a rundown building housing rogue vampires, but in front of the brick warehouse in Brooklyn. He always ended up here. The first time it had happened had been only two days after Magnus had left him, and he had decided that he would try to talk to him. He had buzzed up to the apartment with no answer. Alec had pounded on the door for what seemed like hours, screaming Magnus's name, until he was sure he had fractured his hand and lost his voice. Now, a month later, he still hadn't talked to the warlock, and the pain was still eating away at him slowly. He'd gotten thinner, barely even eating anymore, and he could tell that Isabelle was worried about him, that everyone was worried, even Simon. "Dude," Simon had said just a few days before, "you look like death. And trust me, I know what death looks like, considering I technically _am _dead."

Alec often found himself staring at his phone, waiting for a new text message, or a reply to one of his old ones, or anything to suggest Magnus didn't hate him entirely. But nothing had ever come.

Alec placed his finger over the buzzer to Magnus's apartment again, having already talked himself out of it about a hundred times. This time though, his jaw set with resolve, he pushed the button and waited. When that familiar voice came through the speaker, Alec was shocked.

"Yes?" asked Magnus.

"Magnus?" Alec started hopefully but cautiously. "It's me, Alec. Can. . . can we-"

"Alexander!" Magnus exclaimed, his words slightly slurred. Alec wondered silently if he was drunk. "Yes, please, do come in!"

Alec, rather confusedly, opened the front door of the building and climbed the familiar stairs to Magnus's apartment. Hesitantly, Alec knocked on the door. At first, nothing happened. Alec thought maybe Magnus had been playing a cruel joke on him. Then, after a loud crash that sounded like a lamp falling over, the door opened to reveal Magnus, shirtless and his breath stinking of alcohol. _By the Angel_, Alec thought. _What happened to him? _

"Alec, how wonderful to see you again," the High Warlock of Brooklyn greeted him with a crooked smile. He leaned heavily on the doorframe, barely able to support his own weight, indicating to Alec just how much he must have been drinking. "We were actually just talking about you, you know?" He gestured for Alec to come into the apartment. Alec moved slowly around Magnus and into the front hallway-the apartment today was a Victorian style mansion-and paused to look back at him.

"We?" Alec asked.

"Please, do ignore him," said a soft voice behind him. Alec turned to see a slim young woman, who looked like she couldn't have been more than his age, who had just poked her head out of the living room. She had a tumble of long, light brown hair down her back and was dressed stylishly in a scarf, pink blouse, and designer jeans. "He is quite irritating when he drinks," she continued, walking toward him.

Alec heard Magnus close the door behind him. "That is not at all true. I become a sort of Faerie when I am drunk. I'm all about the truth."

The girl smiled and shook her head at him, then returned her gaze to Alec. "So, you're Alexander Lightwood? I've heard great things about you."

Alec eyed her suspiciously. "Yes, I am Alexander Lightwood. Who might you be?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, of course. I forgot to introduce myself." She held out a small hand. "My name is Theresa Grey, but you can call me Tessa." Magnus stumbled past the two of them on his way to the living room. He stopped to put an arm around Tessa's shoulder.

"She is my best friend. And she has managed to be that for over a hundred years without trying to change me. Or trying to kill me." He had spoken the last few words pointedly at Alec.

Tessa moved out from under Magnus's grasp and he nearly fell over. She grabbed his arm to steady him, and hit him over the head softly with her other hand.

"Ouch!" Magnus said indignantly.

"Magnus, go lay down and sleep this off before you say something even more idiotic than what you just did."

Magnus childishly stuck a tongue out at her, but he did as he was told, and trudged off toward his bedroom. Alec cringed as the door slammed. Tessa had watched as Magnus left, but now she stared at Alec, studying him.

"It is remarkable how many generations can pass and still carry on a family trait."

"What do you mean? You know my family?"

"I've known your family for over a hundred years. Though, the trait I refer to is, in fact, not originally from the Lightwood bloodline."

Alec just looked at her, confused. Finally, she took pity on him and continued.

"I only meant that you remind me of my husband, but he wasn't a Lightwood," she said sadly.

"Your husband?"

"Yes." Tessa laughed lightly. "But, I'm sure Magnus has already told you of the grand tales of the Shadowhunters of the London Institute. Of him and I, and Jem. And, of course, he must have mentioned Will."

_Will,_ Alec thought in astonishment. _She knows who Will is. _"Actually," he said, "Magnus isn't really all that open about his past. Though I have heard of Will. I don't know much about him. What can you tell me?"

Tessa looked over her shoulder at Magnus's closed door quickly, then turned back to Alec. "Come. Take a walk with me, Alexander. I'll tell you anything you want to know."

* * *

When the door to the greenhouse opened, Jace was immediately hit with the sweet aroma of the flowers and herbs that grew there. When he'd first come to the Institute when he was ten, he'd loved coming up to the greenhouse, because of the smells of the flowers that normally only grew in Idris-they'd reminded him home, of a time when he was happy. Now that he realized that the entire time he had spent with his "father" was a lie and so was his entire life in Idris, he'd wanted to avoid the greenhouse for the same reason he'd always wanted to be there-because it reminded him of home.

He held Clary's hand as she led him through the thick vines and vegetation growing everywhere. Eventually, she reached a bench. Upon seeing it, Jace was reminded of the last time the two of them had been there, and he smiled.

Clary looked up at him to see his grin and squinted her eyes at him. "What are you smiling about?"

"You were wrong. About the last time we were here? It wasn't on your birthday. We came here one more time after that."

Clary's gaze turned inward, as she struggled to remember. Then, apprehension blanketed her face and she nodded. "The day I first asked you to visit my mom in the hospital. It was the first time we'd seen each other since everything that happened with the Mortal Cup and Valentine."

"We still thought we were brother and sister."

Clary laughed at the memory and sat down on the bench, pulling Jace down with her. "Yeah, I remember. Those were the worst few weeks of my life, you know."

"Mine too. It's weird though. I still had feelings for you. I still loved you. I couldn't shake the feeling that I needed to be with you. The day I found out that I wasn't your brother and that I could love you without feeling so helpless and wrong, that was the best day of my life."

"Aw. That's really sweet." Clary said, surprised.

"Well, it's partly because of all that," Jace said, remembering a few months ago when they had all traveled to Idris, about everything that had happened there. "It's also partly because it was the day I killed your real brother. I just wish he'd honored the code of once-your-dead-you-stay-dead."

Clary laughed softly, putting her head on Jace's shoulder. "That's more like _my _Jace."

They were quiet for a while. The sky overhead was fading into a beautiful late autumn sunset. "I just want to go back to that moment," Clary said absentmindedly.

Jace looked down at her. "What do you mean?"

"My birthday," she replied wistfully. "Everything that night just seemed so perfect."

"It did, didn't it? Until the mundane decided to pop in and ruin everything."

Clary elbowed him softly. "I barely even remember what my life was like before all this. Simon and I were normal people, and my mom was just my mom; we were all just human, and we were safe and happy. Just think of everything that's happened since that night in Pandemonium. Our lives are screwed up beyond belief. I don't even know how we've survived it all."

Jace took Clary's chin between his thumb and index finger and gently brought her face up to look at him. "We've survived because we have each other. Us, Alec, Isabelle, Magnus, and even, Angel forbid, the Daylighter, we all rely on each other. _That _is how we've made it this far. And it's why we're going to make it to the light at the end of this tunnel."

He pulled her close and kissed her gently. As he began to pull back, though, Clary reached her hands into Jace's hair, tangling her fingers in his curls, pulling him even closer to deepen the kiss. He could feel the heat rushing to his lips, as if he'd put his mouth directly into a fire. Jace knew that they had to stop, knew that if they didn't, he would hurt her. But he couldn't find the strength to do it just yet. He wanted Clary. He would always want her. The fire was not only in his lips now, but in his hands, as he finally found the strength to push her away. The fire only increased and increased until-

"Ah!" Clary cried out, sitting back and putting her hand to her shoulder, where a blotchy red mark in the shape of a handprint was beginning to form.

Jace looked at her horrified. "Clary. . . Clary I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. I told you, though. I've told you." His voice pleaded with her to understand, though she did not seem angry. "We can't. Not yet, not until I figure how to get rid of whatever the Hell this is inside of me."

Clary sighed. "Brother Zachariah still hasn't found anything?"

"No. He's looking though. You'd think I was his son or something."

"You know, when you were healing after the battle, he was always here, at the Institute, watching over you. He was here when you were missing, even after the search had been deprioritized by the Clave. It's like he cares about you. He's different. He seems the most. . .human of all of the Brothers, but it's more than that. It's like he's your own guardian, obsessed with your well-being. He seems especially determined to ensure the Herondale bloodline doesn't disappear."

Jace had known Brother Zachariah had been there in the days after the battle, but he had not know this much. "I wonder. . . never mind." He said, shaking his head.

"What?"

"It's nothing." Jace put his hands gently on Clary's shoulder. "Forget about it."

"Jace," Clary pleaded. "Come on. No more secrets, remember? You promised me no more secrets. Please," She gazed into his golden eyes, seemingly searching for something she'd lost a long time ago, her eyes longing. "Tell me what you're thinking."

He bit his lip, and then said. "I was just wondering what his story is. I mean, he _is _different than the others. I don't know how, just. . . _different_. I mean, why does he care so much about me?"

It was clear that, though Clary had obviously wondered the same thing before now, she was no closer to an answer than he was. A silence fell momentarily between them. Finally, the corners of Jace's mouth quirked up in a grin, and he took Clary's hand. "Come with me. I want to show you something." He held her hand for a moment, studying her reaction to make sure he wasn't hurting her, and then led her through the garden toward the place where they'd had their first kiss, near the midnight flowers.

Only the midnight flowers were gone. The plant bed that they had once sat in was in ruin, destroyed, with its soil tossed around, half of it outside the short walls that surrounded the enclosure. The flowers themselves were dead, and the twigs that remained where like ghosts of the once beautiful blooms that normally only grew in Idris.

"What happened?" Clary whispered, in a horrified shock.

Jace cleared his throat, heat rising to his cheeks, though he knew that is was mainly from embarrassment, and not the fire that burned in his blood. "The night Valentine told us we were brother and sister, I went blind with rage. I couldn't think straight. Normally, before then, I'd come up here to clear my head, but when I got here, all I could see was that first kiss, that night, these flowers. And. . . I guess I just lost it. I pulled up the flowers, tore them to pieces. I felt like if I could destroy them entirely, maybe I could do the same to my feelings for you. I don't know," he added bashfully. "It seems stupid now. I was acting like a little kid, I guess."

Clary reached her hand up to turn his head to hers. "No. You were acting like a teenager. Which, despite what the universe seems to think, is what you are."

The sun had slipped down past the horizon and the greenhouse had become shrouded in darkness. Clary reached into her pocket and brought out a small, round object. Between her fingers, the bright glow that could only come from witchlight shone. Upon seeing it, Jace laughed softly.

Clary looked up at him suspiciously. "What?" she asked.

"I gave that to you. Right here. It was the first thing I ever gave you."

Clary smiled. "No, I think the first thing you gave me was a headache."

"Fine. It was the first thing I _intentionally_ gave you."

"I don't know, those headaches seemed pretty deliberate to me."

Jace smiled. "I don't know why you need that thing. All you have to do is kiss me again, and I'll turn into your own personal witchlight Shadowhunter."

"Well, as much as I love watching you glow, I like this witchlight better. It was my birthday present from you. It reminds me of how, right when my life spiraled out of control, you were there, helping me, giving me light."

Jace laughed again, though more heartily this time. "You sound like a corny seventy-year-old poet, Fray."

"Maybe," Clary admitted. "But it's true. You've always been my light in the darkness. It just so happens that, now, with you, it is freakishly literal."

Jace sat down on the ground, pulling Clary onto his lap, where she snuggled into his chest.

"You know," Clary continued, "I just realized something."

"Really? And what is that? Did you finally realize that I really _am _the hottest man in the universe and I get my medal and my prize now?"

Clary just shook her head. "You really are. . .peculiar. But I'd never change that. It's part of what makes you _my _Jace."

"Alright, then. Is that what you have come to realize? That you love me because I'm weird?"

"I _realized_," Clary said pointedly, "that, as long as we have known each other, I still don't know when your birthday is."

Jace went still and silent for a moment, wondering how to explain the truth to her. When he didn't respond for another few minutes, Clary picked her head up off of his chest to look at him.

"What?" she asked nervously. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, it's-" He was cut off by Clary's glare. _Oh, yeah_, he thought. _No more secrets._ "Well, when I say it's nothing, I meant that I wasn't going to make a big deal out of it. I really don't like celebrating my birthday anymore."

"What? Why not?"

"Well, it was kind of something I celebrated with my father-Valentine, I mean. You remember when I told you how my birthday was with him?"

She tried to hide a smile. "I think I remember something about a five-year-old you in a bath full of spaghetti."

Jace chuckled. "Yeah. My birthday was the one day each year that my father did whatever I wanted. He treated me like I was a prince to his kingship. And after I lost him, I didn't ever want to celebrate without him again. My first birthday here, Maryse and the others all tried to throw me this surprise party. When I found out, I hid in my bedroom for hours. When Maryse finally found me under the bed, I told her that I just couldn't handle celebrating, because it reminded me too much of _him_. She understood, I guess, but she and Isabelle always try to get me to enjoy something for my birthday every year anyway. That's why Alec always takes me hunting. It took me a few years before I realized exactly what he was doing, trying to get me out of the Institute, away from the others. He never really pitied me after what happened, and he didn't ever let me feel sorry for myself. I mean, I used to come up here to the greenhouse for weeks when I first came to the Institute, because most of the plants and flowers here only grow in Idris and they reminded me of home. It was Alec who finally figured out where I kept disappearing to and told me to, as I recall, 'stop moping because we had training to do and demons to hunt.' I punched him and broke his nose. He punched me back and cracked my ribs. A few weeks later, we became parabatai." Jace smiled fondly at the memory.

Clary looked at him with wide eyes. "You never told me that."

"I've never really told anyone. It was one of the darkest times in my life and I never want to go back there again, even for the good memories."

"But you don't have to," Clary said softly. "Jace, now that you know about Valentine and everything he did to you, to us, you can't really miss all of that right? You can't miss _him_."

"No," Jace said shaking his head, "of course not."

"Then it's settled," Clary said, a maniacal grin on her face.

"What's settled?" Jace responded suspiciously.

"For your next birthday, you are going to let me and Isabelle and Maryse and everyone else throw you a party. And Alec is not allowed to take you hunting. And you are going to let us give you presents and cake and you are going to love it."

"And if I don't love it?" Jace challenged.

"Then you will pretend you do for your family's sakes."

Jace laughed. "You drive a hard bargain, Fray, but I think I will accept your offer."

Clary's grin seemed to reach her ears. "Good. But, just a quick question first. When _is_ your birthday?"

Jace looked away from Clary and ran his fingers through his golden hair. "Well. . ."

Clary tried to catch his gaze, but he kept his eyes on the twigs that had once been the midnight flowers. "Jace? What? What's wrong?"

Jace finally turned back, his mouth in a half smile. "My birthday is on the 25th."

Clary looked surprised. "Your birthday is on Christmas Day? That's only, like, a week from now! Jace! You should have told me!"

"I didn't want you to make a big deal of it. Which, by the way, is exactly what you are doing."

"Well, I still have to go out and buy you a gift," Clary said frantically, "and I have to let Isabelle and the others know-"

"Would you relax? You don't have to do it all this year."

"Yes, I do," she insisted firmly. "It's your first birthday since we've known each other, since you've found out about your father. . . Jace, I want to do this for you. Please."

Jace let out a sigh. Clary's eyes were as big as a puppy's and, though he couldn't say what made him do it, he pulled her into his arms and embraced her. His lips touched her hair lightly as he whispered into her ear, "Fine. What can I do to help?"

Clary pushed him away, though only as far as she had to in order to look into his eyes. She was smiling mischievously. "Well, there is one thing. . ." she said cautiously.

"Clary, no," Jace said quickly in a preemptive strike. "No. You are not going out by yourself. I know that's what you're going to ask but-."

"How do you expect me to do anything with you always there? It's supposed to be a surprise. You definitely can't be there when I buy your gift."

Jace took Clary's shoulders firmly. "Clary, I am not going to let you get yourself killed because just because you want to throw me a stupid birthday party. No. the answer is no."

Clary looked at him defiantly. She shook his hands off of her shoulders. "Jace you are being ridiculous about this."

Jace threw his hands up in the air, exasperated. "Maybe I am!" he shouted, making Clary jump at the sudden outburst. "But if that's what it takes to keep you safe, then that's what I will do. It is what I will always do. I will never let anything bad happen to you, and I will do anything to make sure of it."

Jace spun around, vaguely aware of the heat burning inside him, the sharp glow of his skin lighting the walls as he strode away from Clary and threw himself down the greenhouse stairs, half walking, half running to his bedroom and slamming the door behind him.

* * *

Simon rubbed his eyes as he rose from his bed, careful not to wake the beautiful girl sleeping beside him. Then again, to call Isabelle Lightwood just a beautiful _girl _would be to call a dinosaur a lizard. But he couldn't help it-her laying there in his bed, sleeping soundly, with her dark hair spread out on his pillow like a sleeping princess and the two red dots on her neck standing out starkly against her pale skin, it all just made her seem so young and innocent. Not at all like the badass demon slayer she was when she as awake.

Simon gently grabbed a shirt out of the pile of dirty clothes in the corner of his room. As quietly as he had moved, though, Isabelle still stirred in the bed.

"Mmm. . ." she murmured as her eyes slowly fluttered open. She smiled sleepily. "Hey."

Simon's throat was hoarse as he spoke. "Hey." He cleared his throat, though it did little good. "How are you?" He asked, gesturing to the wounds on Isabelle's neck.

Isabelle blankly put her hand up to her neck, wincing as her fingers came in contact with the two deep holes in her neck that Simon's fangs had made the night before. Finally, she looked up at a now very anxious Simon. "I'm fine," she said, though he still didn't feel reassured. "Really, I am. It's nothing, Simon." Izzy stood up unsteadily from the bed, wobbling a little on her legs before steadying herself. She walked over to her clothes and weapons belt, still lying on the floor where she'd left them. Simon thought back to the previous night, when he had answered the door, groggy from being woken up so late, to a visibly upset Isabelle. Upon seeing him, Isabelle had thrown her arms around Simon's neck.

"Iz?" he'd asked, startled. "What's wrong?"

She had pulled back enough to see his face. "The nightmares are back again. I can't get away from them. I'll wake up screaming from a dream of Sebastian and Max, and then I'll fall back asleep, only to see burning angels, and Clary and Jace getting killed by a person, someone I can't see, and then you. . . I don't even want to talk about what happened to you. I can't handle it any more. So, I thought. . . I don't know why, but immediately, when I was trying to figure out who to talk to, my thoughts jumped to you. And then I guess I just found myself throwing on my clothes and coming over, more on auto-pilot than consciously." Isabelle looked up at Simon and put a hand on his cheek. "I'm sorry. I know I should have called-" Simon shook his head almost imperceptibly, and he reached up to take Isabelle's hand, pulling her close enough so that he could kiss her.

A few minutes later, Simon's bedroom door had banged open as the two of them crashed into it, not even bothering to close it behind them. Isabelle fell onto the bed, pulling Simon down on top of her. They had kissed, and as time passed, the kiss deepened. When Isabelle had reached to take off Simon's shirt, she pressed her neck up against Simon's mouth. He could feel the blood pulsing under her thin skin. He could feel his fangs moving into place. He knew Izzy was strong, but was stronger still. . .she wouldn't even have a chance-

Simon had pushed the thought, as well as Isabelle, away. He had stood up and breathed in deeply, closing his eyes and leaning his head back.

"Simon?" Isabelle had sounded so small, like a child, when she spoke. "Simon-."

Simon had opened his eyes to see her sitting up on the bed, her shirt, jeans, and weapons belt already discarded. "Isabelle," Simon said through labored breathing, "you. . .you should go."

Isabelle had stood up, walking cautiously toward him. "Simon. It's okay." Simon shook his head.

"It's the blood," he had said through gritted teeth. "I can't-."

"I know. Take it, Simon. Take my blood. Please, take it. I want you to." she was begging now, holding out her wrist. "Please, Simon," she whispered.

He had looked at her, his eyes pleading for her to understand. "I could hurt you-."

"And I could hurt you back. We make quite the team, you and me," she said, smiling weakly.

Simon had looked up at her for a moment longer before finally conceding. He grabbed her outstretched arm and pulled Isabelle closer to him, sinking his teeth into the soft flesh of her neck. She had let out a little gasp, more in shock than in pain, and the two had fallen back onto the bed in their strange embrace.

Now, the following morning, Isabelle reached into her jeans pocket and pulled out her stele. Quickly, she carved an iratze into her arm, and, as Simon watched, the wounds on Isabelle's neck faded, and she visibly began to regain her strength. She smiled and walked over to Simon, putting her arms around his waist.

"So," Izzy said mischievously, "Do you have any plans today?"

"Not that I am aware of," Simon answered cautiously. "Why?"

"Because you help me forget how bad things are. Especially when you do that little thing you were so amazing at last night. . ." She smiled at him coyly.

Simon smiled back warmly. "Oh, you mean this?" he asked, and he pulled her close, kissing her gently. Slowly, Isabelle backed the two of them up until they were standing at the edge of the bed again. She pulled Simon down on top of her and rolled over, so she could look at him. She laughed, then leaned in for another kiss-

-when all of a sudden, a sharp ringing cut through the room. Isabelle's cell phone.

Izzy snapped her head up, turning to look at her clothes. She pushed up off of the bed and rushed over to her jeans, where she pulled her phone out of the pocket. She looked at the caller ID and froze.

Simon, noticing her discomfort, asked, "Who is it?"

Isabelle looked at him, one eyebrow arched in confusion.

"It's Clary."


	3. Chapter 2: Darkness and Deception

**Author's note: Sorry it took forever. I got 90% done and my hard drive magically erased itself, so I had to totally rewrite everything! Then, my computer got fixed, but I had finals, and now it's graduation week, and it's just been crazy. Anyway, I hope you like chapter 2! Please read and review!**

* * *

**2**

**Darkness and Deception**

"Clary, are you insane?" The reproachful voice on the other end of the phone was Isabelle's. "If I did that and Jace found out about it-."

"Who says Jace ever has to know?" Clary challenged.

Following Jace's outburst in the greenhouse, he had stormed away, leaving Clary alone in his wake. Numbly, she had made her way down the stairs and through the maze-like halls of the Institute, eventually ending up in her bedroom. She'd tried to think about what had just happened, but she was too exhausted. Training and fighting with Jace had drained all of her energy, and within a few minutes of laying down on her bed, Clary was asleep.

The next morning, when she woke up, she had a plan already formulating in her mind. She had gone to Isabelle's room to explain it to her, only to find the room vacant. Upon checking the library, kitchen, and weapons room, Clary had finally returned to her own room and decided to just call Izzy. When she answered, Isabelle was out of breath and whispering, as if she didn't want to be overheard.

"Clary?" Isabelle breathed quickly.

"Isabelle?" Clary had asked in surprise. "Where are you?"

"Oh," she said, seemingly searching for something to say. "I went out hunting. I couldn't sleep." Clary heard a muffled voice in the background, recognizable but not immediately identifiable, and heard Izzy shush the person.

"Isabelle?" Clary asked cautiously. "Who are you with?"

"Um. . .No one you'd know. Just a. . . friend. Definitely not anyone you've ever met in your entire life. Ever." Isabelle hazarded unconvincingly.

"What? Iz.." Clary trailed off, wondering who Isabelle could be with that would make her so defensive. Unless. . . "Oh my God. Isabelle, you're not with. . ." Clary jumped up in a surprised realization from her place on her bed. "Are you with Simon?!" she exclaimed.

There had been a pause, and Isabelle had sighed.

"Clary, look please don't be mad." Isabelle begged, but Clary wasn't angry. Instead, she was happy for Simon. From the first moment he had met Isabelle, Simon had had feelings for her, and after what had been going on between the two of them in recent months since they had been home from Idris, Clary had been worried they would never be okay again.

"No, Isabelle, I'm not mad. I'm just. . .surprised, that's all. But I do really need to talk to you about something."

"Is something wrong?"

Clary heard Simon in the background ask "What's she saying? What's going on?" Both questions were, of course, ignored by Isabelle.

"Not particularly, but I need your help with a plan I'm working on."

And then, Clary had eagerly laid out for Izzy her plan-a plan to get Jace away from the Institute long enough for her to slip out, unnoticed and unprevented. Isabelle, though, seemed slightly less enthused.

"Jace is obsessive about protecting you, Clary. He won't just leave you alone at the Institute unprotected for no good reason."

"What if Alec took him out hunting? He always trusts Alec. Plus, it will get Alec's mind off of Magnus for a little while. Jace never has to can just tell him that you're going to keep an eye on me."

"And next week, when he asks you where you got whatever you're getting him for his birthday?"

"I'll tell him the truth. He'll be really mad, but he won't be able to undo it. And maybe he'll see that I didn't exactly die while I was out and he'll loosen the reins a little. What's the worst that could happen? Actually," Clary added hastily, "don't answer that. Look Isabelle, I am suffocating here, and Jace can't get much worse than he already is. What is the harm in trying?"

"Clary, did you ever think that maybe Jace might have a point about this? I know it's a foreign concept and it doesn't happen all that often, but my brother can be right on occasion. You know Sebastian is insane, and he isn't going to stop until he has both you and Jace with him."

"I know. But Isabelle, I still believe in what I said when I came to visit Jace right after he woke up after we got home from the Burren. Sebastian won't come back for Jace and me until he's sure he's going to win this war; he won't come for us until he's got an army and he's ready to use it. So, if he's ready to start coming after me just over a month after we last saw him, we have a lot more to be worried about than just my safety."

"I thought you were trying to convince me that you wanted to less supervision, not more." Isabelle said blandly.

Clary wished Isabelle could see the exasperated look crossing her face. "Why is it that none of you think I can take care of myself? Jace has been training me for months, even before what happened with Sebastian-."

"And Sebastian's been training with Valentine his entire life, Clary. And he's got an army of Dark Shadowhunters. _And_ they're all ridiculously faster and stronger than any other Shadowhunters, including Jace. Now do you see why? Can you see why Jace is worried so much?"

"Not particularly," Clary muttered under her breath. "I'm stronger than you think."

"I know you're strong. But you're just not strong enough to take them on. I'm not even sure if the Clave is strong enough to take them on."

"Name of the Angel, Isabelle, I'm going out for maybe an hour. I'll stick to the shadows, I'll keep watch over my shoulder, and I'll call you every five minutes. One hour, that's it. I promise."

"I still don't know about this, Clary." Isabelle said, though resignedly, and Clary knew that the fight had already been won.

"Don't worry. If I mysteriously die, I promise to let Jace know somehow that it wasn't your fault. Even if I have to haunt him as a ghost."

There was a long pause, and Clary could hear Isabelle talking to Simon in the background, though their words were muffled, presumably by Isabelle's hand over the phone's microphone. Clary glanced around her room briefly as she waited for Isabelle, catching sight of herself in her vanity table mirror. She looked different. Not older, not really thinner or paler, but just _different_. It wasn't something she could put a finger on just yet.

"Clary?" Isabelle said wearily, snapping Clary back to reality. "Are you still there?"

"Yeah. I'm here," she said quickly. "So?" Clary bit her lip anxiously. "Are you in?"

Isabelle sighed dramatically. "What do you need me to do?"

Clary felt a smile stretching across her face. "Thank you! Thank you so much Isabelle!"

"Yeah, well, just don't make me regret this."

Clary shook her head, then realized belatedly that Isabelle couldn't see her. "I won't," she replied hastily. "I promise."

"Alright. I guess I'll go call Alec then."

"Are you sure? I could call him if you wanted-."

"No, I should be the one to do it. Alec has been. . .well, he's been a bit unstable since he and Magnus. . ." Isabelle trailed off, but Clary understood her completely.

"Oh. He's that bad? What am I saying, of course he is. I mean, it was him and Magnus. You're right. You should be the one to call him."

* * *

Alec was walking in Central Park with Tessa's hand at the crook of his elbow, and he briefly wondered what time she had grown up in to have learned such ancient-seeming customs and propriety. He looked at the trees, all of leaves already fallen and a light frost on the ground. His mind was still reeling from what Tessa had just told him. The story of the London Institute and of her friends. And of Will.

"Your husband? Will was. . . I mean, he wasn't. . ." Alec felt silly even thinking the words now. He took a deep breath and began again. "He and Magnus weren't-"

Alec's sentence was cut short when Tessa stopped suddenly, her surprisingly strong grip on his arm dragging him to a halt as well.

"What's Magnus got to do with anything?" Tessa asked suspiciously. "Alec, surely you didn't think there had ever been anything. . .romantic between Will and Magnus?" Tessa looked up, but Alec turned before she could catch his glance.

"No," he muttered under his breath. He sighed and turned back to Tessa. "It's nothing. It's just that Camille had led me to believe-."

Tessa, to Alec's surprise, let out a ringing laughter and turned her gaze away from him. "Camille. As in Lady Camille Belcourt? Well, I can imagine what you heard from her about Will and Magnus." She laughed again, softer this time and turned back to Alec. "Magnus told me the story a few years after Will died. I wasn. . . Well, I wasn't in a good place. Magnus was trying to cheer me up, so he told me why he and Camille had broken things off between the two of them. I don't recall all the details, but if I'm not mistaken, it included Will being high off of some spell, Magnus kissing him, and Will never remembering any of it."

"Oh" was all Alec could manage to say. He brought a hand up to cover his eyes, ashamed of himself for ever believing anything Camille Belcourt had said.

Tessa put a gentle hand on Alec's arm. "It's not your fault. Camille Belcourt is a manipulative, crazy, evil-." She stopped upon seeing Alec's stunned gaze. "What? Just because I'm a hundred years old means I have to act like a proper lady from a hundred years ago? Magnus is over 800 years old, right? And he dresses like a major fashionista teenager and wears glitter every chance he gets. We have to keep up appearances, you know."

Alec laughed despite himself. "Alright. Fair enough."

Tessa smiled up at him. "That's another thing we immortals get really good at at some point. Helping others feel better about their lives."

Alec laughed, harsher this time. "Unless you're Camille who got too bored with that and went on to destroying other people's lives instead."

" , Alec, please tell me that this little misunderstanding is what happened between you and Magnus."

"Not exactly. . . I was worried about how Magnus would live forever after me. And Camille, she offered me a way to make sure that it wasn't a problem."

Tessa's expression darkened. "She offered you immortality?"

Alec shook his head. "No, she knew I wasn't interested in immortality. But, she did offer to take away Magnus's."

Tessa let go of Alec's arm and backed away, a look of horror in her eyes. "Alexander, you didn't. Please tell me you didn't," she whispered.

"No! Of course not! I told Camille that I'd never do anything for her and I'd never do that to Magnus, but it didn't matter. She told Magnus I'd been meeting with her and he freaked. Tessa, I just. . . I didn't want to be another one Magnus's boyfriends that he hides along with the rest of his past from everyone he meets in the future."

"So that's what this is really about? You're mad that he hides his past from you? Alec, he has 800 years of his past that he has to deal with. He's bound to have some things he doesn't want you to know! He hasn't exactly always been a saint. He hasn't fought for anything in his life-not until he met you. Now he's off fighting for some Shadowhunters that he just met a few months ago? Can't you see how much he cares about you? You're afraid Magnus will forget about you and go on to love other people. You think it's even _possible_ for him to move on from you? Well, you're wrong. I've never seen Magnus act this way about anybody. He doesn't just love you, Alexander. He's _in_ love with you. I don't think you have to worry about him loving anyone else. What you _do_ have to worry about is whether or not you two will stop being so selfish long enough to realize that you have one lifetime together and that you are wasting it playing these childish games!" Tessa's voice had raised to a shout now and her eyes were filling with tears.

"Tessa, I-" Alec sputtered, interrupted by a sharp ringing coming from the cell phone in his pocket. He exhaled dramatically and brought the phone up to his ear, answering on the fourth ring. "Hey, Iz, can you hold on a second?" He lowered the phone and pressed it against his shoulder. "Tessa," he said. "Please just. . . Stay for a minute. Please."

She nodded reluctantly and he breathed a sigh of relief as he walked just far enough from her where he was out of earshot before putting the phone up to his ear again. "Isabelle, this had better be pretty damned important."

He spoke to Isabelle for a few minutes, then hung up the phone after a quick "'bye." He turned back to Tessa, who was twisting a pearl bracelet around her wrist absently. He cleared his throat as he walked the short distance back to where she was standing and she looked up at him. "It sounds like you have to go somewhere," she said.

"Yes, I do, but. . . Tessa, I need you to understand something. I know Magnus loves me. And I love him too. More than I probably should. What I did was a mistake and I will have to live with that for the rest of my life. But I don't know if I can live without _him_ for the rest of my life. You'll tell him that won't you?"

Tessa smiled sadly. "Of course I will." She turned to walk away. Alec watched for a moment and hesitated before finally calling out her name.

"Tessa?" he called. She paused and looked over her shoulder at him. "What do you know about Magnus's father?"

Tessa smiled. "I think you'll have to ask him that yourself. When you two are alright again."

* * *

Clary growled in frustration, ripping yet another page out of her sketchpad, crumpling it up, and tossing it into a quickly growing pile of paper. After she had talked to Isabelle, Clary had dozed off to a dream world of angels and demons, angels that turned out to be demons, demons that became angels, when an image had suddenly come across her field of vision; it was a design like nothing she'd ever seen. It reminded her of an_ iratze_ rune, but there was something too different about it. And now, she had been sitting at her desk for the better part of an hour trying to get the design down on paper, but, no matter how many times she drew it, there was always something about the drawing that had been fundamentally _wrong_. She put her head in her hands and sighed in exasperation.

A loud knocking at her door made her snap her head up, her hand reaching instinctively for the stele on the desk. "Who is it?" she asked.

"Clary, it's me." _Oh, great_, Clary thought to herself._ Jace. I can not face him right now._

"What do you want?" she said, move savagery in her voice than she felt.

"Can I come in for a second? I just want to talk about what happened-."

"Yeah, well, I don't. So, no. You can't come in." She stood up from her chair and turned to face the door, but she didn't move to open it.

"Clary," Jace complained, and Clary heard the door rattle, silently praising herself on the forethought to lock it when she had called Izzy. "Clary, come on. Open the door!" Jace exclaimed.

Clary hated hearing the sense of betrayal in his voice, but she knew that if she opened that door, she would lose all of her resolve to carry her plan out. So, instead she just sat down on her bed and closed her eyes, remaining silent.

The door rattled harder. "You know I can break down this door, right?"

"You know that won't get you anywhere, right?" Clary stood up from her bed and moved over to press her ear against the door.

"Clary, please," Jace whispered.

"I think you should just go, Jace. Please," she replied, trying to keep her voice steady.

For a moment, there was only silence on the other side of the door. Then, Clary heard Jace's heavy boots hard on the wooden floors of the hallways of the Institute as he stormed away.

She let out the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding in her lungs and sat back down at her desk, picking up her pen and putting it to the paper in her sketchpad once more.

* * *

Isabelle had her shirt thrown on haphazardly, half of the buttons still undone as she passed through the living room of the apartment on her way to the front door. She turned to face Simon, who was trailing behind her, and smiled, reaching her hands up to finish buttoning the shirt. "I guess I'll see you later."

Simon put his arms around Isabelle's waist and pulled her close. "Are you sure you have to go right now?"  
Isabelle smiled back at him and put her arms around his neck-without her heels on, she and Simon were about the same height. "I don't know," she mused. "I might be able to be persuaded to stay a little while longer." She brought her face closer to his and Simon closed the distance between the two of them, touching his lips gently to hers. After only a few minutes, Isabelle was leading the two of them to the futon couch in the living room while Simon was unbuttoning her shirt again. They fell-quite ungracefully-onto the couch, and it would have ended up the same as it had the night before had it not been for the fact that, at that particular moment, someone that was not Simon or Isabelle cleared his throat from the now-open doorway. Isabelle jumped up and turned around to see Jordan Kyle, Simon's werewolf roommate, standing there with a very embarassed Maia Roberts, Jordan's girlfriend and Simon's ex-girlfriend that also happened to be a werewolf.

"Jordan!" Simon exclaimed, sitting up quickly and holding out a throw blanket from the arm of the couch to Isabelle, who took it graciously. "Hey, I thought you two were on bodyguard duty for Jocelyn and Luke's place for a few more days."

"In other words, 'Hey, man. I thought you were going to be gone all weekend so I decided to invite my girlfriend over so that I could screw her on every single plausible surface in my apartment'?"

Isabelle's eyebrows shot up and her mouth dropped open. She turned to Simon, who looked like he was ready to start coming up with theories as to how he would explain his roommate's "accidental" fall from a seventh story window.

Maia nudged Jordan with her elbow, her cheeks turning even brighter red than they already were. "Jordan!" she chided. She turned back to Simon and Isabelle, trying to avoid looking at the latter too closely. "Luke and Jocelyn wanted some privacy. They've been through a lot lately and they just wanted some space. I'm really sorry about this. Come on, Jordan, we can come back later. Sorry we, um. . .interrupted." She turned away to walk back through the door, her hand firmly on Jordan's arm.

"Don't worry about it," Isabelle said blandly, standing up and tossing the blanket back onto the futon. "I was just about to leave anyway." She bent down and planted a brief kiss on Simon's cheek before straightening up and striding through the open door, brushing past Jordan roughly as she did.

When she was gone, Jordan turned back to Simon and whistled. "Damn, you sure know how to pick 'em, Lewis."

Simon stood up and, within a few long strides, he was standing right in front of Jordan, close enough that they were breathing the same air. "What the Hell is the matter with you? Ever since you went away to the Praetor house, you have been trying to sabotage me in any way you can. What is going on with you, man?"

Jordan pushed Simon away violently, his anger exploding outward. "What's wrong with me? Nothing's wrong with _me_. I just can't stand the fact that you're dating some Shadowhunter bitch that wouldn't think twice about killing you if you weren't best friends with the girl her brother's dating. As for me, if you weren't rooming with me, if I hadn't pulled your ass off the streets because you were my assignment, she'd have no problem killing me either. And you know what else? I can't stand the sight of you since that monster of a vampire you made out of an innocent little girl killed my old roommate and one of my closest friends."

"Jordan," Maia whispered, horrified.

Simon didn't drop his gaze from Jordan as he spoke. "No, Maia, it's fine. I guess I have my answer." Simon grabbed his coat off of the rack by the door. "I'm going out. Don't wait up for me."

Simon pulled on his jacket briskly, followed by a scarf that Isabelle had picked out for him as a Christmas gift, and stormed out of the apartment after Isabelle, not looking back to see if either of the others followed him.

* * *

Jace slammed the door behind him and ran his long fingers through his hair. His heart was racing and he could feel the heat rising in his veins. He rushed into the bathroom to splash cold water onto his face and caught a glance at his reflection in the mirror. He stared at the dully glowing skin behind the stark black shapes of his Marks and froze with his hand on the faucet. _What's happening to me?_ he thought despairingly. He shook his head and returned his attention to the sink, picking up a handful of water and throwing it onto his face, the cold liquid sizzling as it came in contact with his skin. He sighed and returned to his bed, flopping down onto it resignedly. His phone buzzed in his pocket and he pulled it out, holding the screen in front of his face to read the called ID. Jace sighed again and answered it.

"Alec, now is _not_ a good time-"

"I don't care about your stupid little problems right now. Stop moping around. We have a demon to hunt." Jace laughed softly. "What's so funny?" Alec snapped.

"That's almost the exact same thing you said to me when I first came to the Institute."

"Exactly," Alec said. "Didn't care about your problems then, don't care now."

"Ugh," Jace groaned. "I think I liked you a whole lot more when you were with-."

"If you say his name, I swear on the Angel I will cut your intestines out of your body and draw an iratze on you so you'll live long enough for me to shove them down your throat before I decapitate you with a Seraph Blade. Got it?"

"Yeah," Jace said, sitting up. "I definitely liked you better when you were with Magnus."

"JACE-" Alec began, but Jace had already dropped his phone from his ear and hung up on him.

Jace tossed the phone on his bed beside him, ignoring it when it began buzzing again. After it went silent for a moment, it started up again. Jace knew who it was, but he didn't care. He was in a bad mood, so when he finally answered it on the seventh set of rings, he yelled: "What in the name of the Angel in Heaven could you possibly want?"

There was a pause, then an unexpected voice spoke softly. "I, um. . . Alec was trying to call you. He said you hung up on him and he needed to talk to you. I'm sorry," Clary added in a barely audible whisper. "I didn't mean to bother you."

Jace closed his eyes and put the hand that wasn't holding his phone to his forehead. "Clary. No, you weren't bothering me. I'm sorry, I-."

"Just call Alec." Clary said shortly, and the line went dead.

"Clary!" Jace exclaimed, though he knew he was too late.

He dropped the phone from his ear, resisting the urge to throw it against the wall. He dialed Alec's number and waited. When Alec picked up, his voice rang with an annoyance that Jace had only heard Alec use in the weeks since the break up.

"Oh, have you finally decided to-" Alec began.

"Not in the mood for chit chat, brother. Where am I meeting you and what are we killing?"

* * *

Clary had been walking past shop after shop trying figure out what she was going to buy Jace for his birthday. Everything she thought of or saw seemed not enough for her. It all seemed too general or too mundane. She wanted to give Jace something that had meaning, something that had value. Now, Clary was beginning to wonder if her plan and lying to Jace had all been for nothing.

As she passed an older building, she suddenly realized how empty this part of the street was. Empty of people and, for that matter, any other signs of life. Her hand reached down to her waist, onto which her weapons belt was strapped. She had almost left it behind at the Institute, thinking it would draw unwanted and unneeded attention to her from mundanes, but she ultimately decided that a glamour rune and a weapons belt would be the safest course of action. She rested the tips of her fingers on the Seraph Blade that was holstered in the belt now. A rustling sound came from the building to her right and she froze, turning her head to look at the building, a seemingly abandoned brick warehouse with broken windows and an eerie feeling surrounding it. Clary pulled the Seraph Blade from her belt and whispered it's name. "_Elerial_."

She stepped through the open door into the dark structure, bringing her witchlight out in the hand not clutching the Seraph Blade and light shot out between her fingers, illuminating the room. She looked around quickly, surveying the huge room with its shadowed corners. She shook her head, sure that she was being paranoid and that there had been no reason to panic. She started to lower her witchlight when a blow to her head sent her flying to the ground face first, her witchlight flying from her hand and landing halfway across the room. She broke the fall with her her hands and knees, taking no pause before she jumped back up, the battle euphoria taking effect. She was barely able to see the thing that had attacked her, but she could tell that it was not her brother, as she had feared, but rather a demon she recognized from the Shadowhunter's Codex-a scorpios demon. Its scorpion tail, she knew, held dangerous poison in its sting. Its yellow eyes studied her while it hissed through its razor-sharp teeth like needles.

"_Shadowhunte_r," it growled, moving closer to Clary, where the light of _Elerial_ finally illuminated its wrinkled face. The demon suddenly charged at Clary, moving faster than any normal human, even with the sight, could probably see. However, thanks to the Shadowhunter battle euphoria, her mind was able to slow everything down to a frame by frame view of the attack, and, with a sweeping swing of her seraph blade, she cut through the demons three legs, bringing the sword up in an arc that also removed its swinging tail. The demon bellowed a sharp cry and fell, unable to move itself. Black ichor covered the Seraph Blade and burned at the skin on Clary's face where it touched her. She moved over to the demon's writhing form and delivered one final blow that decapitated it cleanly, its head rolling away in the moments before the body began folding inward on itself, eventually disappearing back to its own home dimension, just as the Eidolon demon at Pandemonium had when she and Jace had first met.

_And they thought I couldn't protect myself_, Clary thought to herself as she strode across the room to her witchlight. She sighed sadly upon seeing it, the smooth stone broken perfectly in half. She picked up the two pieces, one to each hand, and they glowed dimly. When she placed the two pieces together, though, the light flared up to its usual glory, and Clary smiled at it, now realizing exactly what she could give Jace-something special, something with meaning, something that only she could ever give him.

* * *

Magnus's apartment had changed yet again by the time Tessa returned after her talk in the park with Alec. What had been a Victorian mansion now looked like a college student's dorm room, with posters for bands like the Plain White T's and Linkin Park hanging on the otherwise bare walls and strings of christmas lights serving as the only light source in the front hallway. She had to try three doors before she finally found Magnus's bedroom, complete with sappy Taylor Swift music and the passed out High Warlock of Brooklyn spread out on the bed. Tessa rolled her eyes and walked over to the iPod dock, pausing the music mid-song. "Magnus?" She said gently. He didn't move.

She sighed and stalked over to the bed, nudging Magnus's shoulder harshly. "Magnus!" she yelled, much louder than she had said before. "Get up. Now."

Magnus groaned, but didn't open his eyes. "Leave me alone. I'm sulking."

"I can see that." Tessa said, her voice tinged with annoyance.

Magnus raised a hand and waved it at the iPod, starting the music again.

"Are you planning on getting out of that bed any time soon?" Tessa asked.

"Nope. Why would I?"

"In the name of the Angel, Magnus, get up!"

"No!"

Tessa went back over to the iPod dock, picked it up, and threw it down on the ground hard. Magnus jumped up from the bed and looked down at it, horrified. "What did you do that for?" he exclaimed.

"You have to stop feeling so sorry for yourself. Do you even realize how selfish you're being?"

Magnus looked at her incredulously. "_I'm_ being selfish? You have no idea what he even did-"

"Yes, I do. Alec told me everything. About Camille, about what she promised him, about what he considered doing for you."

"For _me_?" Magnus scoffed. "How was what he did anything other than selfishness?"

"He's just afraid of losing you, Magnus! He's afraid that you'll go on to love someone else, that he's just one of the thousands of relationships you'll have in your lifetime and he's afraid that you'll forget him!"

"I'm afraid of losing him too!" Magnus screamed, his voice cracking at the end as his expression morphed from anger to hurt. "But you don't see me trying to make him into a vampire or some other immortal being for my own selfish reasons, do you?"

"That's not the point!" Tessa cried, tears springing into her eyes. "That's not the point at all, Magnus. You're both being selfish. Do you know what I would give to have either of the loves of my life back? Will and Jem are both gone. I would give anything to spend just one more day with either of them, and here you two are, denying how much you love each other, wasting the short time you have together because of one stupid mistake."

Magnus's expression sobered and he looked at her sympathetically. "Tessa, I know you think this is stupid, but I don't know how I can be with him after this. Knowing that neither of us would be truly happy because one of us would have to live without the other eventually. And I don't know if I can live with the person that tried to end my life."

Tessa smiled faintly. "Do you remember what Will and I were like to each other at first? I felt like we spent the entire time trying to make each other angry. It's what people do when they're in love, Magnus. They do stupid things. It doesn't always mean that things between those people aren't meant to be. It just means that sometimes you have to work harder than you've ever worked at anything to get to a place where you can be in a happy relationship."

Magnus shook his head. "But what if we really weren't meant to be? What if I made a mistake, getting tied up in this relationship?"

"You may not see it, Magnus, but I do. You've always been at the edge of Covenant law, always that one step away from breaking it, and do you know why? Because, deep down, you hated Shadowhunters and their laws. You thought they only lived to destroy each other and everything around them. And yet, now, you're helping them every chance you get. I know you haven't changed your mind so quickly. You're just trying to impress Alec, trying to show him that what you believed and what you did in the past doesn't matter any more."

"So what if that was the reason?" Magnus said exasperatedly. "It didn't seem to work did it? Alec has always had a problem with my past, and I don't think there's anything any of us can do that will change that."

"Of course there is, Magnus!" Tessa said, equally exasperated. "If he's so obsessed with your past, then just tell him what he wants to know. What could be so terrible that you think it will send a strong Shadowhunter like Alexander Lightwood running for the hills?"

Magnus didn't answer immediately. Instead, he shuffled over to the window, looking down at the deserted street below. "He doesn't know the worst part about me yet." Magnus said desolately.

Tessa sighed, turning to face him. "You're talking about your father."

Magnus nodded and looked at her over his shoulder, his cat eyes burning darkly. "Yes."

"And you think that, if he knows who your father is, he'll leave you?"

"You almost did. The only reason you didn't is because you knew we had an eternity together and that it wouldn't do either of us any good to hide from one another. You learned to accept it nearly fifty years after I told you. With Alec, I'm not even sure he'll have until next week or even until tomorrow to come to terms with the truth. I'm scared I'll lose him for good."

"Well, if you keep this up, you definitely will."

Magnus sighed and put his head in his hand. "I know. I just. . . I need some time, Tessa."

Tessa pursed her lips together. "Fine. Let me know when you're finally ready to continue living the way you're supposed to. Until then, there's nothing I can help you with, Magnus." Tessa spun and stormed out of the apartment, leaving a very stunned and tired Magnus without another word.

* * *

Clary thanked the cashier and took the small gift wrapped box from her, smiling down at it as she walked out of the small gift wrapping boutique. She looked down at her watch to make sure that she wasn't running over an hour-if she was, Isabelle would probably kill her. 5:47, the small watch read. Crap, thought Clary. She'd left the Institute at 5. Though it had not been a full hour yet, it was too close to the mark for Clary's liking.

Quickly, she ducked into an alleyway, which, being free of the foot traffic of the sidewalk, acted as a much needed shortcut on her way back home. Her boots tapped on the rough pavement as she walked with her head looking down at the present in her hands. As she strayed farther and farther from the street, the noises of the city died down, until she was surrounded by a haunting silence. When her phone buzzed in her pocket, it startled her, setting her heart in an erratic pattern of beating. She looked at her phone and sighed.

"Clary where in the name of the Angel are you? Jace could be back any minute!"

"I know, and I'm sorry," Clary said, picking up her walking pace. "It took a little while longer than I'd hoped, but I'm on my way back there right now. If Jace gets back before me, stall. I'll be there in maybe ten minutes." She hung up before Isabelle had the chance to object and she was almost running toward the mouth of the alley as it came into sight.

She heard a loud noise behind her, and stopped, turning around suddenly, her hand at her weapons belt, though she no longer had a Seraph Blade holstered there. Upon deciding that there was no threat here, Clary furrowed her brow, wondering what the noise could possibly have been. She shrugged and was about to turn around when an unsettlingly familiar voice rang out behind her.

"I'm assuming that little gift is for me?"

Clary shivered unconsciously. "Sebastian," she breathed as she turned around to face her brother. He stood in front of her, having discarded the red gear of the ceremony at the Seventh Sacred Site in favor of the classic Shadowhunter black fighting gear. He could have been any Shadowhunter, except for the fact that _he_, Jonathan Christopher Morgenstern, was the complete opposite of everything a Shadowhunter was.

"You know, my birthday isn't for another few weeks, you didn't have to get me anything yet. Then again, how would you know that? That bitch of a mother we share snatched you up before we could ever properly meet." Sebastian smiled a wicked grin and moved closer to her, his arms open as if he were expecting her to run and embrace him. Instead, Clary was inching away from him, backing away as slowly as she could. "Hello, little sister," Sebastian continued in a slow, drawling voice. "Miss me?"

Clary knew she had no weapons, no backup, and, as far away from the streets as she was, no one would even be able to hear her scream. Instinctively, she turned on her heel and ran as fast as she could, though she knew it was a futile gesture. As Isabelle had made it clear to her, Clary's brother was faster and stronger than any other Shadowhunter out there. Still, when Sebastian suddenly grabbed Clary from behind by the collar of her jacket, she let out a scream of surprise.

He wrenched her to a stop, pulling her against his body and throwing an arm around her shoulders to keep her from running. Though she knew it would do her no good, Clary opened her mouth and let out a blood curling scream, only to have Sebastian's hand clamp down over her lips just moments later. Her head was spinning. _Why didn't I just listen to Isabelle?_ she thought desperately. _God, why am I so stupid sometimes? _Her brother held her still against him despite her thrashing, his arm tight across her shoulders despite her clawing at it.

"Shh, little sis," he whispered into her ear, sending another shiver down her spine. "I know. I missed you too."


	4. Chapter 3: Swear On the Angel

**3**

**Swear On the Angel**

Jace held _Leliel_ lazily in his hand as he leaned against a tree, watching Alec with a less than enthralled gaze.

"Oh, come on! It's like you've never used a sensor before in your life." Jace grumbled, looking dismally at the oblong shape in his _Parabatai_'s hand. "You do remember how to use it, don't you?

"Of course I know how to use it," replied Alec irritably. "Now be quiet."

"We've been at this for almost an hour. I think it's safe to say that, even if there was a demon here earlier, it's long gone now. So, can we just get back to the Institute?"

"No," Alec said nervously. "I swear, I think we're getting closer. The sighting was just around the corner from here. Just. . . Humor me. Please?"

Jace rolled his eyes and sighed. He returned his gaze to Alec, whose face betrayed a sense of uneasiness. "What are you so worried about?"

"What are you talking about?" Alec said distractedly, his eyes not raising to meet Jace's.

Jace pushed himself off the tree and snuck up silently behind Alec, looking over his shoulder to see that the object in his hand that held his gaze wasn't Alec's sensor, but his cell phone.

"Expecting a call?" Jace asked, and Alec spun around in surprise.

"Angel's name, Jace," said Alec, sounding slightly out of breath. "Don't do that!"

"Is there something more interesting than the dangerous otherworldly demon we're currently supposed to be hunting?"

"Of course not. It's just. . ." Alec seemed at a loss for words.

"Look, I understand."

"You do?" Alec asked doubtfully.

"You don't have to hide it. You aren't that good at it, anyway. Look, I know you miss Magnus. But you can't just keep waiting around for him to call you all the time."

"Jace," Alec began slowly, shaking his head. "That's not- -"

"Why are you being so defensive about it? I get that it's hard to talk about, but I can tell that you're not yourself lately- -."

"I'm defensive, and it's got nothing to do with. . . I mean. . ." Alec paused a moment, thousands of thoughts seeming to run through his head. Finally he closed his eyes and sighed, beginning again, jumping on the next sentence a bit too eagerly, though not enough to raise suspicions from Jace. "I don't know what to do about him. I always find myself looking at the phone, waiting for a call or a text, but neither ever comes."

Alec didn't meet Jace's eyes as he spoke, though Jace attributed it to nerves and awkwardness. After all, this wasn't the kind of conversation two guys normally had with each other. "Sometimes, I call him," Alec continued, "but when he answers, I just hang up. I don't know what to say to him. I'll even end up at his apartment in the middle of the night, but I'd always just walk away. And then, last night, I actually went to his apartment, and there was a there- -"

"Oh," said Jace, following Alec, who had sat down on the soft grass below the tree.

"No, not like that." Alec continued. "She's just his friend. And save me the joke about that one please."

Jace's expression mimicked one of hurt. "I would never."

Alec laughed. "Right. Anyway, the girl, she told me a lot, and it all made me think about everything differently, and I haven't talked to Magnus since, and I know Tessa's talked to him, so I don't know if I should call him or if I should wait for him to call me or if I should just go over there and talk to him in person- -."

Jace rolled his eyes again. "Oh, by the Angel, Alec, give me your phone."

Alec held out the phone hesitantly. "Why? What are you about to do?"

"This," Jace replied, and he snatched the phone out of Alec's hand, throwing it on the ground and stomping on it with his heavy boot, effectively shattering the screen. "There. Now there's no choice about it. Now, go over to Magnus's place and talk to him, so I can quit worrying about you and so I can go home."

Alec looked down at the shattered pieces in disbelief. "You _broke_ my _phone_."

Jace shrugged. "Guys don't let other guys keep calling other guys. Okay, that came out wrong. Friends don't let friends keep calling their exes and hanging up. Seriously. You have to stop."

Alec looked furious. "So you broke my brand new phone? Thanks a lot."

Jace smiled serenely and lay back on the grass. "You're welcome."

A small, distorted ringing broke Jace out of his reverie, finding Alec still glaring at him miserably. The pair of them looked at the source of the ringing, which happened to be the broken lump of what used to be Alec's cell phone. Alec raised his gaze to Jace's, the rage still fresh in them. "Would you please get that for me? Oh wait, you can't, because you BROKE MY PHONE!"

Jace stifled a laugh, and the phone stopped ringing momentarily, though it began again only seconds later. By the third set of rings, Alec still hadn't talked to Jace, even refusing to look in his direction. After the ringing stopped for a full minute, Jace was sure that whoever it was had decided to call back later. And then he felt the buzzing of his own phone is his jeans pocket. He groaned and pulled it out, not bothering to look at the caller ID, as he was sure he already knew who was calling.

"Look, Magnus, I appreciate the enthusiasm, and I'm sure Alec does too, but- -."

"Magnus? No," A very female and not-Magnus voice answered. "Jace, it's Isabelle. Are you still with Alec?"

Jace could hear the distress in Isabelle's voice even through the static of the phone. "Iz? What's wrong? Are you alright?" Alec looked over at the mention of his sister's name, a sense of uneasiness plain on his face.

"I'm fine," Isabelle said quickly. "Can you hand the phone to Alec for a minute? I've been trying to reach him but he didn't answer and I've been getting worried- -"

"Oh, no worries." Jace jumped up off the ground, smiling cruelly at Alec. "It's just that Alec's phone doesn't. . . quite get the best reception right now."

Alec scowled at Jace and held out his hand expectantly for the phone. "Hand it over."

"Who says she wants to talk to you?"

"Jace!" exclaimed both Alec and Isabelle at the same time.

Jace handed over the phone quickly. "Name of the Angel, are you sure you two aren't twins? Sometimes, I honestly wonder if you have that weird telepathy thing- -"

"Oh, shut up." Alec said irritably.

Jace held up his hands defensively. "Fine." He stepped back, far enough away that Alec wouldn't bother being too quiet, but also not far enough away where he couldn't hear what was being said.

"What?" Alec hissed into the phone. "Izzy, please tell me that this is just a really terrible joke you're pulling. If it is, it's not funny. At all."

Jace furrowed his brow in concentration, trying to make out what was being said on the other end of the conversation, though it was to no avail.

"And you're sure it's- -" Alec began. "No, I just wanted to make sure we knew what was really going on before we- -. Right. Of course. Isabelle, I know! I'll be there as soon as I can. But, um. . ." Alec lowered his voice. "What are we going to tell _him_?"

Another pause. Jace's blood was racing, as were his thoughts. _What is going on? Something terrible must have happened. The Institute had to have been attacked or something. . ._

Alec sighed and continued speaking, breaking Jace's mind away from the terrible scenarios he'd been thinking up. "Alright. We're on our way," Alec said, and he hung up the phone, handing it back to Jace gently. "Jace," he said carefully, "something's happened." He took a breath and pressed on. "Something's happened to Clary. We need to get back to the Institute- -." But Alec didn't have time to finish before Jace was already running away, heading home to the Institute.

* * *

"Are you just going to ignore me now?" Maia asked, setting a steaming mug of coffee down on the table in front of Jordan. After Simon had left, he'd brushed off her attempts at talking and had strode over to the couch, where he still sat now, staring blankly off into the distance. Maia sighed and sat down next to him, taking his hand in hers, though he didn't seem to notice.

"Jordan," she began softly, "you can't just turn everyone away. Not me, and not Simon. I love you and I care about you, and you know Simon cares about you too."

Jordan looked at her briefly but returned to his pointless gazing only a moment later.

"You can't blame Simon for what happened to Nick."

"Oh really?" said Jordan savagely, not raising his eyes again to catch Maia's gaze. "He made that. . . that _monster. He_ is a monster."

"No! Jordan, he's your friend!"

"He's a murderer!" Jordan exploded, leaping to his feet, his eyes glistening with anger. "He's not my friend anymore. No, he's the reason my real friend is dead!"

Maia stood up, putting her hands on Jordan's shoulders in an attempt to calm him down. "Hey, listen. What you're saying right now, you don't mean it. You know that you don't mean all of this. Simon didn't turn Maureen. He never meant for her to become a vampire. She's out there, by herself, and she's the one who killed your friend. Not Simon! _Not Simon_." She repeated pointedly. "Besides, don't you think that, if he had broken some law, the Clave would have taken notice by now?"

Jordan laughed harshly. "The Clave. Like they'd even know. The Lightwoods are just as bad as Simon is, covering for him. He should be killed. He fed on an innocent human, and she became a nightmare. And what's worse, she's a fourteen-year-old vampire that's at the head of the New York Vampire Clan. Even Raphael Santiago can't stand up to her now. She's a menace, and so is her creator."

Maia stepped back from Jordan, horrified. "No. . . Jordan, are you hearing yourself?"

"Maia, you have to admit that he wouldn't even be alive right now if it weren't for the fact that he's Valentine's daughter's best friend plus the fact that he's hooking up with the Lightwood girl- -"

"'The Lightwood girl'?" Maia whispered in disbelief. "'Valentine's daughter'? Jordan, those are our friends. Our allies. What's gotten into you?"

"Maybe I'm just sick of innocent people getting hurt," said Jordan shortly.

The two of them stood silently for a moment, and then Jordan's phone rang. He pulled it out of his pocket after a moment's hesitation and answered it. "Kyle." He listened to the voice on the other end of the phone, and immediately his demeanor changed, his voice all business. "Praetor Scott. Yes. Of course, sir. I'll be there as soon as I can," Jordan said briskly and ended the call.

He slipped the phone into his pocket and brushed past Maia on his way to the door, grabbing his coat off of the back of the couch as he went.

"Jordan? What's going on? Where are you going?"

"Praetor Scott needs me at the Praetor House. Says that he has a special job for me."

"'Special job'? Doing what?"

"I don't know and I didn't ask questions. That's the way a pack is supposed to work, you know."

Maia followed him over to where he now stood by the front doorway. "Can I at least come with you?"

Jordan sighed, putting a hand on Maia's cheek. "You aren't Praetor. I don't think Scott would be too pleased to see you. Plus," he continued, a smile quirking up the edges of his lips as he wrapped an arm around Maia's waist, pulling her closer. "You are _very_ distracting. I don't know that I'd be able to get anything done if you were there."

Maia smiled at him, but remained silent, and Jordan planted a kiss on her forehead before releasing her. "I'll be back soon. I promise. I love you."

"I love you too." Maia said wearily.

And, with that, Jordan opened the front door and left without another word.

* * *

"Clary?" A voice rang through the darkness. "Clary! Come on! Wake up already! You can sleep when you're dead!" Clary's eyes fluttered open as she slowly woke from a sleep that still beckoned her back with it's enticing peace and quiet. She scanned the large bedroom until she found the source of the voice that had awoken her. _Sebastian_ was the thought that immediately ran through her mind, though she wasn't sure why. This person's name wasn't Sebastian, it was. . .

"Jonathan?" Clary groaned, lifting up her hand to block the harsh rays of sunlight coming in through her windows. _Where am I?_ She thought to herself.

"Good morning, little sister. Time to face the day. Or were you just planning to stay in bed all morning?"

Clary didn't understand what he meant until she turned onto her side and saw the small clock on the bed side table. _Of course,_ said a voice deep in her subconscious. _This is the room you've always lived in. In Idris, with your mother and father and brother. This is the same old bed you've always had. That's the same table, the same clock. And right now, that clock is telling you that you aren't supposed to be in bed, but rather you're supposed to be. . ._

"By the Angel!" Clary gasped, throwing back the duvet and rolling quickly and clumsily out of bed. "Dad's going to kill me this time for sure." After all, one did not keep Valentine Morgenstern waiting, especially not one of his children. She brushed by her brother, who was already fully dressed in his training gear, on her way to her closet.

"No he won't. You're Father's perfect little Angel. It's me he'll kill if we're late again. So, if it's not too much of an inconvenience to you, do you think you could hurry it up a little bit?"

Clary emerged from her closet with her clothes bunched up in her arms. "Go ahead. I'll be there in a minute. And I promise to take full responsibility for my lateness to increase your life expectancy." Her brother grinned and she laughed, continuing. "Besides, if you weren't around, who would I have to take the blame for everything?"

"Cute," her brother replied.

"I normally am, you know. Now get out so I can get dressed."

"Right." Her brother beamed at her wickedly, picking up a stuffed rabbit off of Clary's dresser, one she'd had as a child. "I'm not really interested in watching your floor show today, or any other day for that matter. That's just creepy. But I can think of about a dozen other guys in Idris who would love tickets. Hey, why don't you wait until lover boy gets here? Bet he'd appreciate- -"

"Jace!" Clary yelled, feeling, rather than seeing, her cheeks turn bright pink. She grabbed her rabbit out of his hands and pointed at the door. "Out! Now!" She shoved her brother through the open door and then slammed it in his face.

Clary hastily changed her clothes, pulling her gear and boots on clumsily, not even bothering with the laces. She grabbed her stele off of the small table next to her bed and sprinted out her door and down the long hallway to the training room. She halted suddenly when she reached the doorway, not wanting to let her father know how rushed she'd been to get there. She took a moment to catch her breath and compose herself, and then she turned the corner and entered the room.

Her brother was already there, a weapons belt strapped on, several small daggers already sheathed in it. Her father, standing next to him, looked furious. The sight of him in full battle gear and a menacing glare directed toward her made Clary want to cringe. _But he wouldn't hurt you, not really_, said the voice in Clary's mind. _He _is_ your father. . ._

"Ah," he said. "My daughter has finally decided to grace us with her presence."

"I'm sorry," she said, sounding smaller than she'd have liked. "My alarm didn't go off."

"I thought I told you to wake her up before lessons this morning, Jace?" Valentine said to the pale, green-eyed boy next to him.

"He did try to wake me up," Clary interjected. "I just stayed up too late last night and couldn't get up in time. I'm sorry. It's my fault."

"Nevertheless," Valentine replied, "your brother still should have woken you earlier. Even if it meant throwing a bucket of ice water on you."

"But, it wasn't his fault- -" Clary began, only to be cut short when her father raised a hand to silence her.

"Clarissa, you must stop taking responsibility for his actions. How is he ever going to learn if you always try to protect him from the consequences of his actions? He does not need his little sister to do _anything_ for him. Do you understand?"

Clary opened her mouth in protest, but her brother spoke before she could get a word out. "He's right, Clary. It was my fault. I can take care of myself. Just leave it alone." He had said the words for Valentine's benefit, she knew. _His_ eyes were looking at _her_, pleading for her to let it go. But it wasn't because she was protecting him and he didn't like it. It was because he was protecting her, like he always had. _He'll always protect you,_ the voice reminded her, returning. _He always has. Why is that surprising you?_

His eyes shone when he looked at her, green as spring grass.

_He has always had green eyes,_ said the voice in her head. _People often marvel at how much alike you are, he and your mother and yourself. His name is Jonathan and he is your brother; he has always protected you._

Somewhere in the back of Clary's mind she saw black eyes and whip marks, but she didn't know why. _He's your brother. He's your brother, and he's always taken care of you._

"Alright," Valentine said, breaking the silence that had fallen. "Now that we're all accounted for, let's start today's training, shall we?"

* * *

"Well," said Luke, letting the curtains over the window of his bedroom fall closed. "Maia and Jordan are gone. The pack won't expect us to need a new security detail for at least another day, and there are no creepy crawlies outside to ruin our night. So we," he said, lying down in the bed next to Jocelyn, "have the house to ourselves for a little while."

Jocelyn beamed up at him. "I like the sound of that," she said, putting a hand on his face and pulling him in for a kiss, only drawing away momentarily to ask, :How long did you say we had again?"

Luke chuckled softly and pulled Jocelyn closer. "At least 24 hours. 24 hours of bliss and silence and no distractions- -"

Luke was interrupted by a buzzing coming from Jocelyn's cell phone on the bedside table. Carefully controlled anger flashed across his features. "Tell whoever that is to kindly go to Hell. Or Australia. Whichever is more convenient."

Jocelyn smiled and shook her head at him as she reached for the phone. She squinted at the bright screen in the darkness of the bed room. "It's Clary," Jocelyn said. "Care to revise your statement?" When Luke hesitated a moment too long, Jocelyn slapped his shoulder. "Luke!" she exclaimed, laughing as she brought the phone up to her ear. "Hey, sweetheart," she said, answering. "What's up? You never call me this late. Is everything alright over there?"

"Funny you should ask, mother dearest," said the answering voice darkly.

Jocelyn sat bolt upright. "Sebastian." She felt Luke's gaze on her. She turned to look at him, the fear in his eyes no doubt reflecting the terror in her own.

"Hey, Mom," Sebastian said in a jeering tone. "I'm fine,by the way. Thanks for asking."

"Sebastian," Jocelyn repeated slowly, trying to keep the fear out of her voice. "Where's my daughter? What have you done- -?"

"Oh, relax Jocelyn. Little sis is just sleeping right now. I haven't done anything to her. Yet."

"What do you want?"

"What makes you think I_ want_ anything?" Jocelyn could practically hear his arrogant smile as he spoke.

"I know you. You aren't one for the theatrics. You do what you want and only what is necessary to get what you want. You're just like your father, no matter how much you try to deny it."

"Valentine was a pathetic extremist with no idea what he was getting himself into and no idea how to get out once he did get himself into it. I am nothing like him," Sebastian said, uttering the last sentence slowly and menacingly.

"Still," Jocelyn continued, "you had to have had a reason to call or else you wouldn't have. What do you want?"

"Oh, nothing much, Mother. I just wanted to have the satisfaction of knowing that you know that I have your daughter, and that you will _never_ see her again. She's mine now."

"Wait, Sebastian- -" Jocelyn began, but her son had already hung up.

She dropped the phone from her ear and stared at it. Eventually, Luke asked, "Jocelyn? What's going on? What's happening?"

Jocelyn didn't look up at her fiancee as she spoke. "He has her, Luke. Sebastian has Clary."

* * *

"Clarissa," Valentine was saying sternly, "you need to focus more. You're either going to kill yourself with that sword or you're going to let whatever it is you're fighting kill you. You have to be more focused on the task at hand."

Clary held the broadsword awkwardly in her right hand- -she'd trained with swords before, but had never really been good with big weapons like the broadsword; she preferred small weapons like daggers that could be hidden many places on one's person without the need of a clunky weapons belt or huge sheath. "I'm sorry. I'll try harder."

"If all you do is try, you'll never learn. You have to practice as if it is a real situation, as if it is a real enemy, and not just your brother fighting you." Valentine turned his back on her as he began a long tirade about focus in battle and life-and-death situations being no joke.

Clary snuck a smile at her brother during her father's lecture, and he grinned back. The two of them both knew how to fight, but sometimes, they just weren't motivated enough to actually try in training exercises. Today, however, their father seemed to be in a very strict mood, and so they gave each other "the look"- -a look they always gave each other when they decided that they actually needed to fight in front of him. Sebastian raised an eyebrow at her. _Think you can beat me today? Guess again_, he seemed to be thinking. Clary, in return, gave him a look that said _Oh, bring it on, big brother._

Valentine turned back to face his children, his harangue finally finished, and sighed. "Have you two even listened to a word I've said?"

Clary and Jonathan looked up at their father. "Of course we have. Come on, Jace. Let's try this again."

Clary's brother smirked at her, and held his sword out in front of him, Clary mirroring him. The two of them stood bouncing on the balls of their feet, waiting for the first move to come at any moment. Suddenly, Clary burst into action, jabbing out at Jace with the tip of her sword. He quickly deflected the blow, and the two were locked in an intense battle.

After a few blows and near-misses, Clary realized that she was getting nowhere fast fighting with the heavy sword that was almost useless to her. As she was recovering from a particularly nasty blow her brother had thrown at her in which the hilt of his blade had collided with her temple, Clary felt a sharp pain on the back of her hand as Jace's sword sliced through her skin, making her drop her sword. Jonathan followed this with a sharp kick to Clary's stomach, which knocked the breath out of her, and she fell to the ground on her hands and knees. He kicked her sword away from her and held the tip of his own blade to her throat, an arrogant smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "Do you concede, little sister?"

Clary finally caught her breath back, and looked up at her brother through her eyelashes. "Like Hell I concede." She said, and she swung her feet around, knocking Jace's feet out from under him and making him drop his sword as well. She flew over to it before he could reach it and picked it up- -his was a lighter sword, almost like a rapier. Jace was already recovering, about to get back on his feet, but Clary, sword in hand, jumped him, pinning him to the ground. Her legs straddled his waist, her feet holding his arms down, and the blade at her brother's throat, making him still incredibly fast for fear that any movement might cause accidental injury. Clary smiled down at him with an equally arrogant smile as the one he'd worn before. "What was that about focusing and not getting over confident, brother?"

A loud applause rang through the room. Clary gasped and looked up to see a beautiful blond-haired boy standing before her. For some reason, the name_ Jace_ ran through her mind, though she wasn't sure why her brother's name popped had into her head when she laid eyes on her boyfriend, who was laughing softly to himself. "I remember teaching you that move," he said. "Though I remember having quite a bit more fun with it."

What happened next occurred so quickly that Clary barely even had a chance to register that it had happened at all. One minute, she was staring at the gorgeous Shadowhunter standing in the doorway of the training room, and the next, her brother had his hand over hers on the hilt of the sword, ripping it from her fingers before grabbing the back of her knee so that she fell backwards, yelping as she hit her head on the hard wooden floors. Jace jumped up to his feet and pulled Clary along with him, bending one arm painfully behind her back and pressing the blade uncomfortably against her neck, whispering softly into her ear. "I win. Better luck next time."

"Alright, fine. I concede," she said irritably, and Jace released her from his grip. "That doesn't count, though. I would have beaten you easily if it weren't for my idiot boyfriend distracting me." She growled pointedly at the boy still standing in the doorway smiling smugly down at her.

"If you were focused on the task at hand," her father chimed in, "he wouldn't have been able to distract you."

"Yeah, Will. You should come by more often," said Jace, putting the sword back in it's place on the wall. "Especially if it keeps her _that_ distracted."

"Well, if her being distracted is what my _parabatai_ needs to defeat his little sister in training battles, then perhaps I chose my hunting partner unwisely," Will, who had finally moved to stand next to Clary, jeered. "And, in all fairness, Clary, I did tell you to keep your feet further down on the wrists so that the person couldn't move move their arms at all."

Clary, ignoring both her father and her brother, shook her head at Will and threw her arms around her boyfriend's neck, pulling him down to kiss her. When she pulled away, she whispered to him softly so that neither of her family members could hear. "Even if it did mean getting beaten every time, I'd still be fine with you coming over more, you know. Though my father might have something to say about it."

"Speaking of your father," he muttered, and Clary heard Valentine clear his throat behind her. She jumped away from Will and attempted to wipe the smile from her face to no avail.

"Well, Mr. Herondale," Clary's father spoke to the boy directly, ignoring her completely. "Not that I don't enjoy your company, and I'm sure my daughter does as well, but what might you be doing here during our training session? We weren't expecting you until later this evening."

"My father is downstairs. He wanted to talk to you about a rogue werewolf that was roaming around Brocelind- -"

Valentine's expression darkened. "A rogue werewolf, you say? In Brocelind Forest?"

"Yes, sir. According to my father, it can fight like a Shadowhunter. Rumor is that it used to be one. He wanted to know if you'd go hunt it down with him. You know, remind him that rogue werewolves are still against Covenant Law."

"Is that so?" Valentine asked nervously. "Well, tell Stephen that, though I would love to, I've not feeling quite up to a fight tonight. However," he continued, "if he were really concerned about it, I might suggest that you and my son take this hunt yourselves."

Jonathan walked over to stand beside Will. "Really? That'd be awesome! Our first rogue downworlder."

"Yeah, I'm totally up for it," said Will excitedly.

"What about me?" Clary asked, catching her father's attention. "I can fight pretty well too, you know. I'm sure you guys could use another- -"

"No," said Valentine shortly.

"But- -" Clary began.

"No. This is their hunt, not yours, Clarissa. There's no reason for you to go off an get yourself hurt. You'd just be a burden on them, something to take away from their focus on the job at hand. Perhaps next time you can go. Maybe you could ask Alexander and Isabelle Lightwood to go with you. Alexander can even bring along his _parabatai_, the Wayland boy."

"But when's next time going to be? I'm probably the only Shadowhunter my age who isn't allowed to go out and hunt demons," Clary said miserably.

"Because you aren't ready, Clary," her father said gently. "You and your own _parabatai_ were almost killed the last time you went after something you weren't ready for- -"

"It's an occupational hazard! Izzy and I were fine! The demon didn't come anywhere near killing us!"

"You were incapacitated by demon poison for three days!"

"So what? It was just three days!"

"Clarissa, you aren't going out this time, and that's final. Now, your mother is going to need some help, as I'm sure Will and Stephen are going to be staying for breakfast. Go help her out."

"But- -"

"Now!" Valentine whispered menacingly.

Clary set her jaw and walked away, stopping momentarily to give Will a rather long and lingering goodbye kiss, just to draw a reaction from her father. When she pulled back, Will gave her a shocked look as if to say "are you crazy?!" She looked back at Valentine one last time, and then stormed out the door toward the kitchen.

As she left, she could just barely hear her brother's mumbled comment. "My sister, gentlemen. I'd try not to piss her off if I were you."

* * *

Jace threw open the front door of the Institute and headed directly for Clary's room. When he found it empty, his heart sank. He slammed the door closed behind him and ran to Isabelle's room next, finding his sister sitting on the bed, her eyes wide and puffy from crying. "Where is she?" Jace demanded, and Isabelle looked up at him, a mixture of anger, sympathy, and fear in her eyes.

"Jace- -" she began in a tone that he recognized as one she normally used to try to keep him from killing something or someone. It was a voice she used to try to keep him calm. But he was having none of that tonight.

"Isabelle, where's Clary?"

"I. . . I don't know." Isabelle admitted.

"What in the name of the Angel Raziel do you mean you don't know? You were supposed to be watching her!"

"Jace," said Alec, who had appeared silently in the doorway of Isabelle's room. "It's not Izzy's fault. It's all of ours."

"What are you talking about?"

Alec glanced at Isabelle, as if silently asking her if he was allowed to tell Jace the truth. Isabelle nodded to him. "We shouldn't have kept it from his in the first place, Alec. Tell him."

"So let me get this straight," Jace said, after listening to Alec and Isabelle explain how it was possible for Clary to go missing when she wasn't even supposed to leave the Institute alone. "You let Clary talk you two into one of her idiotic plans and something went wrong? Well, doesn't that sound familiar?"

"Jace, we didn't think she was in any immediate danger!" Isabelle defended. "We haven't heard from Sebastian in almost a month. We figured he was out there getting his apocalypse ready. You said yourself that you didn't he'd come after her until he was ready, and we've seen no signs at all that seem to indicate that he's anywhere near ready for the end of the world. Hell, we don't even know it's Sebastian yet, Jace! Clary could have just gotten lost or stayed out later or something."

"Clary's lived in New York for the grand majority of her life," Jace said. "I'm pretty sure she didn't get lost. And, besides, why wouldn't she at least call you to tell you she'd be a little late? Isabelle, something is _wrong_. I can feel it."

"That doesn't mean it's Sebastian!" Isabelle's phone buzzed in her pocket, and she pulled it out, staring at the screen. "But that might be the least of our problems," she said hollowly.

"Why?" asked Alec, finally contributing to the conversation. "What's wrong?"

"Did either of you tell Jocelyn about Clary?" Isabelle asked.

"Of course not," Alec responded incredulously. "Why would we do that? We should really be picking our battles carefully right now, and that's not a battle that we can really afford right now."

"Well, you'd better find a way to deal with her soon. Mom just text me from the Library. Jocelyn just showed up, and Mom says she's screaming her head off about something, and that she wants to talk to us."

"Well then," said Jace. "Let's not keep her waiting."

Alec grabbed Jace's shoulder as the latter was turning to walk back through the door. "Are you crazy? She's going to kill you!"

"And she'd be justified. Look, I swore to her that I would protect her daughter. Now I have to face the music."

"It's not your fault though!" said Isabelle.

"Clary was my responsibility. It's all my fault."

"At least let us take part of the blame."

"You can try to take it all if you wanted to. Jocelyn won't let you. I'm the one that swore on the Angel. Maryse and I are the ones that Jocelyn made swear to protect her. Jocelyn's going to blame everything since Clary met us on me. And she'd be right."

* * *

Jace, Alec and Isabelle all walked through the door to the Institute's massive library. Immediately, Jocelyn ran up to Jace, screaming at him, tears shining in her eyes, though none had fallen yet. "Where is my daughter?"

"Jocelyn- -" Isabelle began, but Clary's mother interrupted her.

"I'm not talking to you. I'm talking to him!" Jocelyn yelled, hitting Jace hard on the arm. Jace stood there, letting her hit him and yell at him, completely unfazed by it. "You promised me you were going to protect her! You swore on the Angel that nothing would happen to her here!" Jocelyn hit him again, repeatedly, before finally breaking down in tears, collapsing and falling to her knees. Jace, holding her arms, slid down beside her and held her.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"Jocelyn," Alec ventured easily, "how did you find out?"

"Sebastian called her." Maryse Lightwood, who was standing behind the large desk that had once belonged to their tutor, Hodge Starkweather, had her arms crossed over her chest in disapproval. "When she came here, I told her that it was impossible, that the Institute had special wards put up to prevent her son from entering here, and so there was no possible way anything like this could have happened. So, imagine my shock when I find that, not only was Clary not in the Institute, but my children both helped her get out without my or Jace's noticing."

"Mother, I'm sorry. This wasn't supposed to happen-"

"Nevertheless, it has. I am very disappointed in you, Alexander. I'd expect such ridiculous ventures from your sister, but never from you."

"It wasn't Alec's fault, Mom," Isabelle said, finally speaking up. "I asked him to do this as a favor to me. I told him it would get his mind off of Magnus for a little while. It's not his fault this happened. It's not any of our faults. We never thought Sebastian would do this."

Jace watched as events between his adopted family unfolded, but then returned his attention to Jocelyn, who, looking more broken and frail than he'd ever seen her, was shaking frantically. "Jocelyn," Jace coaxed gently. "We need you to tell us exactly what Sebastian told you. If you can remember anything- -"

"I remember my demon child telling me that he has my daughter and that he never intends on letting her go," Jocelyn was able to whisper before the sobs overtook her body again.

"Maryse," Jace said darkly, "will you watch her for a second?" Maryse nodded and Jace disentangled himself from Jocelyn's pale arms. "Alec, Isabelle, come with me. We need to talk." And, without another word, Jace walked out of the Library, waiting in the hallway for his brother and sister. When Isabelle came out, followed by Alec, and shut the door softly behind them, Jace immediately began speaking. "We need to find Sebastian. Now."

"Jace, the Clave has been trying to track him down for months. What makes you think they'll be able to do it any faster now that he has Clary?"

"I didn't say that the Clave needed to find him. I said that we do. I'm done waiting for them. I spent almost a month with Sebastian, I know a lot of his tricks. We can find him without their help, and we're going to."

"We shouldn't," protested Isabelle. "The Clave has a plan."

"The Clave has the collective intelligence of a pineapple," said Jace.

Alec blinked up at them. "Jace is right."

Isabelle turned on her brother. "What do _you_ know? You weren't even paying attention."

"I was," Alec said, injured. "I said Jace was right."

"Yeah, but there's like a 90% chance of me being right most of the time, so that's not proof you were listening," said Jace. "That's just a good guess."

"Even if we did do this," Isabelle continued, "where would we even start? Jace, we have no more cards to play."

"I might have one. . ." Jace muttered, more to himself than to the others. He turned around and walked down the hallway of the Institute in the direction of the cathedral where the front door was located.

"Jace!" Alec called after him.

"Jace, where are you going?" Izzy yelled.

"Out for a bit. Don't wait up, alright? And tell Maryse not to worry. I'm going to figure this out." Jace paused and turned around to look back at them. "I have to figure this out. I swore on the Angel. I'm going to keep that promise." He turned back around and walked swiftly away, not turning back again.


	5. Chapter 4: Decisions and Revelations

**4**

**Decisions and Revelations**

Jordan jumped down out of his truck, slamming the door behind him. The darkness around him made this abandoned warehouse near the East River even more eerie than he had imagined when Praetor Scott had called and arranged the meeting. He'd hated lying to Maia about where he was going, but he knew that if the alpha of his pack had told him to meet him someplace secret, that had to include his girlfriend too. He looked around, peering through the blackness, wondering if the older werewolf had already arrived.

"Hello, Praetor Kyle," spoke a voice from behind Jordan. He spun around and saw the outline of a man, dressed well in a well-tailored suit and silk tie, his hair graying.

"Praetor Scott?" Jordan asked. "What's going on? Why did you ask me to meet here? Why not at the Praetor House?"

"Because," replied Scott, "this is a conversation I wish to keep private, just between you and me."

"When you called, you said that you had a job for me? You said it was urgent."

"A job so secret you can't even talk about it at the Praetor House?"

Jordan could just make out the features on Scott's face as he grinned slightly. "Come with me to my office and I'll explain everything."

The leader of the Praetor Lupus turned on his heel and strode off into the darkness, Jordan following closely so that he would not get lost. Eventually, the two of them turned a corner, and the path was blocked by a door, the lock for which Praetor Scott quickly produced a key. He pushed the door open to reveal a surprisingly modern looking office, complete with a large mahogany desk and all the lush furnishings of an rich doctor or lawyer's office. "This is my workspace," he explained. "That is, when I don't want my work to come under scrutiny by any. . . unsavory parties, you might say."

"You're worried that there are spies in the Praetor Lupus?" Jordan asked disbelievingly.

"Spies?" The older man laughed shortly, walking to sit in a leather chair behind the desk. "No, of course not. I trust those people with my life. It's just that one can never be too careful when discussing certain matters, such as the ones I am about to discuss with you. Please," he continued, indicating a chair across the desk from his, "have a seat."

Jordan sat down, eyeing the alpha wolf cautiously. "And what, if you don't mind my asking sir, is it you wish to discuss with me?"

"You are aware that your assignment, Simon Lewis, created a fledgling vampire that is now the leader of the Manhattan Vampire Clan?" Scott had said it plainly, as a simple question, but to Jordan, it felt like an accusation. It felt like a placement of blame on him for not better controlling his assignment.

Jordan nodded. "Maureen. Yes, I'm aware."

"And you are also aware, I know, that this vampire later killed the Praetor agent we sent to watch her? Your roommate, am I correct?"

Jordan swallowed against a lump in his throat that was making it hard to breathe. "Yes," he replied hoarsely. "What about it?"

"That girl has to be handled. She is outside of the Covenant law and I intend to make sure she is held to the due punishments of her actions. My problem is that the Shadowhunters of the Lightwood Institute won't persecute her for fear that it will reflect badly upon them. But, I have a feeling there is more to this than just Isabelle Lightwood dating the vampire that created this menace. I think the Lightwoods are turning against the Clave. I think Maryse and Robert Lightwood are returning to their old ways from the time of the Circle. And now, with Valentine's daughter and the boy Valentine raised as his own living under the Institute's roof, they have opportunity. Do you think they won't take it? Do you think they'll continue to fight against Valentine's real son? Do you think they have the strength to keep brother and sister away from each other?"

"What are you saying? That the Lightwoods are helping Sebastian?" Jordan asked incredulously.

"I'm not saying that, no. I am merely expressing my concern at the possibility of said occurrence happening."

"There's no chance of it happening! The Lightwoods may be covering for Simon, but they wouldn't help Sebastian. As for keeping brother from sister, Clary hates her brother. She'd be first in line to kill him if it were up to her."

"But you aren't sure." Praetor Scott leaned forward. "You aren't, are you? You know as well as I do that these people can't be trusted. They're a threat to all of us."

"No. . ." Jordan began but trailed off. "Sir, why are you telling me this? Why haven't you gone to the Clave about this?"

"Without actual evidence?" Scott scoffed at the thought. "The Clave would laugh in my face. No, I need to catch them doing something. Something that will be proof enough to the Clave that the people of the Lightwood Institute can not be trusted, that they are no more our allies than the mother of the demons herself. And that's where you come in."

"You want me to spy on them," said Jordan; it wasn't even a question, only a bland statement.

"I'm not sure if 'spy' is the correct term, but if that's what you want to call it, then yes. I want you to keep an eye on them. Bring me something that will prove to the Clave that the Lightwoods are not fit to take care of this problem."

"The Lightwoods aren't working with Sebastian, and they sure as Hell aren't going against the Clave."

"I just thought perhaps you'd want to know for sure. What would Nick think? That you are willing to ignore his sacrifice and the Praetor, your only true family, for these people you barely even know?"

"This isn't about him!" Jordan roared.

"Isn't it? Why did you come today, Jordan?" Scott replied plainly, his voice remaining calm. "You had to have thought something of the fact that I was asking you to meet me in secrecy."

"I didn't know what you wanted," said Jordan, the fury in his voice audibly growing stronger.

"Perhaps you didn't know why, but you were hoping. You were hoping that we'd finally found you a reason to take down your assignment."

"That's not true- -"

"So is it also not true that the two of you have been fighting lately, fighting about how much of a monster he his? How you hate the sight of him since the monster of a vampire he made killed your old roommate?"

Jordan stared at Scott, a horrified expression blanketing his face. "How did you know that?"

"We have eyes and ears everywhere, Praetor Kyle. You shouldn't be surprised. So just let go of this moral dilemma you're facing. Help me, and help yourself. Help me bring down the Lightwoods and their cohorts. And then, your friend will not have died in vain." The older werewolf leaned forward and whispered to the boy sitting before him. "So, can I trust you with this mission, Praetor Kyle? Have you made a decision?"

Jordan cast his glance down at his feet, several different ideas streaming through his subconscious as he thought. Finally, he raised his eyes to look through his eyelashes at Praetor Scott. "Yes," he replied. "I've made a decision."

* * *

"I don't get him at all," Clary was saying irritably. "We train and we train, every single day. He knows how good I am. But every time a hunt comes around, I can't go because he hates me!"

Jocelyn put her hand on Clary's arm briefly. "Clary, sweetheart, he doesn't hate you. He's just protective of you."

Jocelyn was bustling about the kitchen, cooking breakfast for her family like she did for every morning, before she took over her children's lessons in demonology and history._ She does this every morning,_ the voice in Clary's head said. _So why does it seem so foreign to you?_

"I know," Clary continued, still leaning against the counter, staying out of her mother's way- -Jocelyn Morgenstern might be a domestic Shadowhunter wife that did housework, but that didn't mean her daughter had to be as well. "But there's such a thing as _over_protection. He treats me like I'm some kind of rare porcelain doll and he's afraid I'll break. I'm a Shadowhunter. Part of the job is danger and sacrifice and actually _hunting_. I don't know what he wants from me."

"He wants," her mother replied gently, "for you to be safe."

"It seems like he's more worried about Izzy than he is about me. He's always talking about how I put my _parabatai_ at risk and don't think about what would happen if one of us died, you know?" Clary bit her lip, unsure as to whether or not she should ask her mother the question on her mind. "Mom?" she began hesitantly. "What happened to Dad's _parabatai_?"

Jocelyn froze as she was setting the table. She turned to look at her daughter, and Clary watched as her mother sat down slowly in one of the chairs. "Why would you ask something like that?"

"It's just that Dad's so protective of_ parabatai_. And I've seen the way he looks at Jace and Will when he thinks no one's looking; he looks sad, like he's missing someone. He never talks about his _parabatai_ and I've never met him, so I'm just guessing that he's dead. But. . . What happened to him to make Dad so intent on me protecting my_ parabatai_ and me so closely ?"

Jocelyn shook her head and stood up, picking up where she had left off in setting the table. "Clarissa, what happened with your father's_ parabatai_, it's. . . It's complicated. And I'm sure it's not the reason he's not allowing you to go on this hunt."

"Oh, really? Why else would he keep me out of one of the easiest hunts I'd ever go on. It's just one rogue werewolf in Brocelind. I could take care- -." The rest of Clary's complaint was arrested by a sharp noise that cut through the kitchen. Jocelyn stood unmoving, her eyes fixed on Clary, a broken glass at her feet.

"Mrs. Morgenstern?" said a worried voice in the doorway, and Clary turned to see Will, who was looking concernedly at her mother. "Are you alright?"

Jocelyn broke her gaze from Clary to look at Will. She shook her head after a few seconds and laughed lightly and unconvincingly. "Yes," she said. "Of course. I'm just clumsy, I guess. It's getting worse with old age." She smiled reassuringly and bent down to pick up the sharp glass shards.

"Here, let me help you." Will said, rushing to kneel next to her, picking up the dangerous pieces of glass that could easily have been used as a dagger.

Jocelyn beamed at him and stood up, a few of the smaller shards in her hand. "Thank you. A gentleman, just like your father, Will. He raised you well."

Will's face flushed in embarrassment, and he hid his face as he careful dropped the pieces of broken glass into the trash bin. "Thanks. That's actually why I came down. Where has my father disappeared to?"

"He went outside when I came down." Clary supplied helpfully. "He was afraid he was getting in the way."

Will nodded at her and smiled. "Thanks," he replied, leaning down to kiss her lightly on the forehead before turning to leave. He stopped at the french doors leading out into the gardens and turned back unexpectedly to face Jocelyn. "Goodbye, Mrs. Morgenstern. And by the way, you can't blame old age just yet. You're still young and beautiful. Just like your daughter." He moved his glance to Clary and gave his girlfriend a charming smile before opening the doors and disappearing through them.

Clary smirked after him, beaming like an idiot while Jocelyn retrieved another glass from the cabinet and continued her work. "You know," her mother said thoughtfully, "I like that boy. He's polite and funny and sweet. I can see why you care about him so much."

Clary looked at her mother, a hint of annoyance tinging her voice as she spoke. "So, I guess you're just going to ignore what just happened?"

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about you freaking out when I mentioned the hunt I wanted to go on. Is something wrong, Mom? I mean, you'd tell me if there was something wrong, right?"

"Of course. I mean, no, nothing's wrong and I would definitely tell you anything you needed to know."

"'Anything I needed to know?'" Clary replied incredulously. "That's not the same thing, Mom- -"

"Just drop it, Clary. Please."

"No, Mom, now I know there's something going on. Why won't you just tell me- -?"

"Clarissa," her mother snapped, sounding tired and irritated and even afraid all at the same time, "that's enough. We aren't talking about this anymore. Go get your father and the others, will you? Tell them breakfast is ready. Please."

Clary hesitated, and then nodded reluctantly, heading to do as she was told. Before she left, though, she stopped and snuck a glance back at Jocelyn. Her mother stood, leaning on the table as if she could barely support her own weight, with one hand over her heart. Clary didn't know what was bothering her, but she'd now made it her own personal mission to find out.

* * *

Simon sat on the park bench, which was already half covered in the new-fallen snow that still fell softly around him. He didn't know how long he'd been waiting there, but he didn't mind. His friendship with Jordan had been rocky as of late, to say the least, and he wasn't in a hurry to get home. The park was quiet and peaceful at night, the mundanes having left at the onset of dusk. He heard footsteps approaching, but he didn't have to look up to know who it was. He'd been waiting here all day for her to finally show up. He'd been talking to her enough lately to know the sound of her heart beating apart from anyone else's.

"Simon?" the girl's voice said, and Simon looked up into his sister's eyes.

"You came. I was beginning to worry you were going to bail on me."

"It's like you don't know me at all." Rebecca smiled and sat down on the bench next to her brother after having already dusted some of the snow off. "Sorry it took me so long to get here. I've been staying with Mom the past few weeks. I told her I was coming to see you and she freaked. I had to wait until she fell asleep before I snuck out."

"So she still hates me? I'm not surprised. I guess I understand where she's coming from."

Rebecca ignored this comment and shivered. "Jeez, it's freezing, Si. How long have you been out here?"

"Since noon," he replied, staring forward at a tree, completely devoid of leaves, that stood out like a ghostly silhouette against the white snow. "Maybe a bit before that."

"But aren't you cold?"

Simon laughed harshly. Normally, with the weather this cold, he should have been able to see his breath. But that had changed when he'd become a vampire, like so many other things had changed. "Don't really get cold anymore, Becks. Don't really feel much of anything. I guess I really am the monster Mom thinks I am. Cold and heartless; unable to feel."

"Simon," Rebecca said, placing a hand on his shoulder, "she just doesn't understand what's happened."

"And she never will," Simon replied, bringing his gaze up to meet his sister's, his eyes pleading for her to understand. "She won't listen to me, she won't listen to Clary. She won't even listen to you. I've been hearing people say she's getting worse. People at school. . ."

Simon's sister nodded reluctantly. "She keeps trying to tell everyone that her son is dead, and people keep telling her that it's not possible, that they see you on the streets all the time. They think she's just finally lost it, with all the stress from Dad and you about to leave for college, and me already gone. They think she's just losing her mind."

"But she's not," Simon said despairingly, dropping his eyes to the snow covered ground. "Her son really is dead."

"Simon. . ."

He raised his eyes once more to look at her, tears stinging behind them, sprouting from the mixture of anger and disappointment and even self-hatred that was bubbling up inside of him. "The son she knew died, Rebecca. I can never be a normal person again. I'm never going to age, I'm never going to be able to do anything with either of you. I can't just go out to dinner with you or go to a baseball game with you, with thousands of mundanes just walking around like human blood bags. And I'm going to have to watch everyone I love die, and now, I'm going to have to do it without my mother ever knowing how much I loved her."

A silence fell between them, as neither of them knew what to say, or even if there should be any words spoken at all. It was Rebecca who broke the silence, her voice soft and cautious. "Can't you make her forget?"

Simon looked up at her like she was insane. "What?"

"I remember you saying that, at one point, you'd made her forget everything. About the blood and you being a vampire. Couldn't you do it again?"

"No. I mean, I want to. I want to more than anything in the world, but I don't have the strength. I'm living off old animal blood. Maybe if I had a healthy supply of human blood in my system, but- -"

"You don't want do it?"

"Of course I do!" Simon exclaimed exasperatedly. "I just. . . What would we tell her anyway? That I'm normal? That I'm just another teenager? How long would that last?"

"Then don't tell her something like that."

"What would _you_ have me say, Becky? Please, just tell me what I'm supposed to do here."

Rebecca cast her eyes downward and muttered under her breath. "Make her think you're gone."

"What?" Simon asked, though he had heard her very clearly.

Simon's sister lifted her gaze back to his face, biting her lip nervously. "Make her think you're gone. That you've run away or that you're going to college early or something. Make her think that your band is actually making it big and going somewhere. Tell her something that will make her not worry about you coming home. And then just disappear."

Simon was taken aback. "Becks. . ." he whispered, trailing off.

"Look, Simon, you know I don't want you to leave. But. . . Mom's not going to get any better. And, you can still send her letters and call her but. . . But you can't stay here. Not for much longer."

Simon's heart sunk inside his chest. He knew that what Rebecca was saying was true, and that it was the best, but something in his heart made him want to hold on to the idea that he and his mother could be a happy family, if only just once more in his life. He sighed and put his head in his hands. "You're right," he mumbled against his fingers. "It's what I have to do."

Before he could ask his sister how they planned on accomplishing this- -after all, his mother wouldn't even open the door of their apartment to him, and it wasn't like he could open it for himself with all of the religious relics drawn everywhere- -when the phone in his pocket vibrated. He pulled it out, looking down at the screen and squinting at its brightness in the otherwise pitch black park. It was a message from Isabelle. _911,_ it read. _Really need to talk to you. Meet at the Sanctuary._

"Simon?" he heard Rebecca say, her voice worried.

He looked at her as he stood up. "It's an emergency. I have to go." Rebecca nodded, and looked at her feet. He hesitated before taking one of her hands in his. "We'll talk about this later. I promise."

* * *

Clary strode into the room, followed by her brother and father, having already brought Stephen and Will in from the gardens. Will, she remembered, had looked very pale when she'd found him, like he'd seen a ghost. Now, he sat at the table by his father, looking rather greenish. She wondered what on Earth could have been bothering him so badly, and she silently reminded herself to ask him later.

"Valentine," Clary heard her mother say tightly and looked up to see Jocelyn standing before them, arms crossed over her chest. "Can I speak to you for a moment please?"

Clary looked up to see her father's reaction- -he obviously had no idea what this was about either. "Of course," he said, his eyebrows furrowing together in confusion. He turned to the rest of us. "Why don't you lot start without us? We'll only be a moment." He smiled reassuringly at all of us, before following my mother's lead out the door into the hallway. I sat down in a chair beside Will, and Jace sat next to me.

"What do you think that was about?" Clary asked, honestly curious.

Jonathan shrugged. "Why do you care? It's none of your business. Besides, they're probably just out there making out or something." He laughed and I rolled my eyes at him. "What do you think, Will?" he asked.

"Yeah," Will joked, though it was clear his heart wasn't entirely in it. "Yeah, that's probably it."

"So," Stephen interjected, "it seems you boys are going on a hunt later."

Only a moment later, Stephen, Will, and Jonathan were bickering over the best way to kill a werewolf without letting it hurt you in the process. Clary was about to interrupt, suggesting that she could kill one faster than the three of them combined, when another conversation caught her attention. The voices were muffled, but she definitely recognized them as her parents'.

". . .know it's Lucian," Jocelyn was saying. "How could you send your own son- -?"

"It's just a hunt, Jocelyn," Valentine coaxed. "Nothing more. You're making too much of all of this."

"No, there is so much more to this than just a _hunt_, Valentine. This is you being too much of a coward to face your past- -"

"Keep your voice down," Clary's father whispered dangerously. "And don't you dare call me a coward."

"Then don't lie to me! Or yourself, for that matter."

"That is enough! This conversation is over."

"Why you aren't beyond using our son to exact your revenge, I will never understand. But the way you are treating your daughter- -"

"Don't tell me how to be a father, Jocelyn."  
"I'm just worried. If you keep her too sheltered, she's going to end up on a hunt one of these days, one you put her on or otherwise, and she's going to get herself killed. You have to let her breathe, Valentine."

Clary shook her head, turning her attention back to the events going on at the table. Will looked up, his gaze scrutinizing her face. "Clary? Are you alright?"

"What?" she asked, barely even grasping his words. She shook her head again and sighed, plastering a smile on her face. "Yeah, I'm fine. I'm just tired, I guess."

"How on Earth can you be tired?" Jace chimed in, teasing. "You slept longer than any of us."

She smiled sweetly at him. "Yes, but unlike you, I actually need my beauty sleep. It's entirely wasted on you."

"Why? Because I am so stunningly attractive that no amount of beauty can even possibly be added to my magnificent self?"

"I was thinking more along the lines that you're a lost cause at this point, and beauty sleep will do you about as much good as it will a dead tree."

"Ah, my children," said Valentine, returning to the table with Jocelyn following closely behind. "Always so mild mannered."

* * *

"Magnus!" Jace yelled into the microphone of the intercom system at the High Warlock of Brooklyn's apartment. "Magnus, open the door! We need to talk!"

"Go away!" replied the staticy voice in the speaker. "I'm not interested in playing your toy warlock tonight, Herondale!"

"My name is Lightwood, and I need your help!" When there was no answer, Jace kicked against the front door. He was sure that if he wasn't glamoured, mundane passerby might have called the police. "Name of the Angel, Magnus, I will break this door down."

"That's cute," Magnus answered. "You think I don't have wardings up to prevent such silly things."

"I don't care if you do. I'll just burn down the whole building until you come out."

Another bout of silence. "Magnus, I am not joking about this! It's Clary! Look, Sebastian has her and I need your help!"

At first, Jace thought that maybe Magnus was just ignoring him. He ran his fingers through his hair anxiously. He didn't have a backup plan. He knew Magnus could help, but he needed the warlock's cooperation before he could get anything. He was about to turn back and return, defeated, to the Institute when he heard the lock on the front door of the apartment building unlock, and heard the door open. He looked at Magnus, standing in the doorway in a purple glittery bathrobe and unicorn slippers. "What did you say?" Magnus asked.

Jace's heard raced in his chest. "It's Sebastian. He grabbed Clary today. I need to find her, Magnus, and I know you can help me."

Magnus studied the Shadowhunter in front of him, as if judging his sincerity. Finally, he moved aside and opened the door enough for Jace to enter. "I guess you'd better come in then."

Jace nodded and brushed past the warlock, making his way up the stairs to Magnus's second floor apartment.

Jace walked into the apartment and waited for Magnus to follow. He watched as the warlock bent down, picked up Chairman Meow, and carried the cat over to where he sat down on the sofa. He gestured for Jace to sit, but Jace, having no patience left in his body, snapped at him.

"Look, I'm not here to chit chat. You may not have heard me before, but my girlfriend has been kidnapped by her psycho brother who is obsessed with her. I need you to help me bring her back."

"What makes you think that I am any more capable tracking Sebastian today than I was when you were missing and Clary was in the same position you're in now? I can't track between the worlds, Jace. And even if I could, it's not like you could afford me. My rates are pretty high these days."

"Let me make this perfectly clear, Bane," Jace said menacingly. "This has nothing to do with you and Alec. Just because you're too scared to fess up about whatever it is you don't want him to know- -"

Magnus narrowed his eyes at him. "You have no idea what you're talking about, Shadowhunter."

"I know exactly what I'm talking about."

"Oh, really? Then please, explain it to me. Explain to me what I am so desperately missing here."

"I think," Jace said, "that you don't want to tell your secrets, so you decided to break up with Alec because you're afraid he's going to find out something he was never supposed to. Something that would make him leave you. I mean, that's what you were really afraid of when he was visiting Camille, wasn't it? She knew things about your past that Alec shouldn't find out about. That's why you broke up with him. A preemptive strike because you thought he'd eventually leave you anyway."

"Jace," Magnus began darkly. "Leave it alone."

"No. I won't. I can't because this whole thing is ruining Alec's life. You can't even imagine how miserable he's become. It's almost pathetic."

Magnus rolled onto his back and put his feet up on the arm of the sofa. "What do you care if Alec's miserable?"

"What do I _care_?" Jace said, so loudly that Chairman Meow rolled off the couch and landed on the floor. "Of course I care about Alec; he's my best friend, my _parabatai_. And he's unhappy. And so are you, by the looks of things. Takeout containers everywhere, you haven't done a thing to fix up the place, your cat looks dead- -"

"He's not dead."

"That's not the point, Magnus! You obviously love him and you obviously miss him. So why don't you two just kiss and make up already?"

"Because," Magnus growled irritably, "there's so much more to it than that." Magnus rolled over and stood up swiftly from the couch. "There are things you don't understand, things about me and my past that you don't know, things that are probably beyond the realm of your imagination when it comes to me."

"Are you talking about your father, Magnus?" Magnus froze and glared at Jace, who continued. "I know what Alec told me about the night you broke up with him. He told me about the witchlight. He told me that Camille had said that your father was a prince of Hell. Look, I do not have time to argue with you about this or for you to deny any of it- -."

"And if I do?"

"Then you're just being selfish by keeping it to yourself. Don't pretend like you don't know your father could be just the person we need for this." Magnus scoffed and rolled his eyes. "Magnus, think about it for a minute. Sebastian has her. When he had me, I wasn't that huge of a threat. Even if I had drunk from the Infernal Cup, I would have just been another one of his Dark Shadowhunters. But, with Clary, she's something different. Her abilities, in the hands of a Dark Shadowhunter that's loyal to Sebastian is the Clave's worst nightmare! She can create any rune he wants or needs, and she'd do it without hesitation. I wasn't a priority when I was with Sebastian, Magnus. But Clary is. For so many reasons."

Magnus stared at Jace for a moment, his mind seeming to work through all of the different possibilities. Finally, he let out a long sigh and closed his eyes. "There was something," he said uneasily, "that I wasn't willing to try for you. No offense, but your death wouldn't be the end of the world. Clary's capture, however, very well _may_ lead to the Apocalypse." Magnus's eyes opened and fixed themselves on a place on his wall. "Call Alec and the others. I want them all to be here. I'll _need_ them all to be here. Even the Daylighter. Call them and get them here." He slowly turned to lock his gaze on Jace. "I think it's time I tell you all learn a little something about my family."

* * *

"Iz?" Isabelle heard Simon call out in the darkness of the Sanctuary "What's going on? What was the "911" for?"

"Simon," she said softly, stepping out from behind a column she'd been standing behind while awaiting Simon's arrival.

"Isabelle," he rushed to her side, his hands holding hers. "What's wrong?"

"Clary," she said, cringing as her voice cracked. She cleared it and continued. "Sebastian took her." Simon's eyes were wide, but, for some reason, it didn't seem to Isabelle that Clary was the one he was most worried about. "Simon, I am so sorry."

"Don't be." Simon said, pulling her into a gentle embrace. "It's not your fault. Trust me. When Clary wants to do something, there's not a power in this world that can stop her. If you hadn't helped her, she would have found someone else to, even if was just herself. She can be a stubborn little brat sometimes."

Isabelle laughed at this. It was one of the many things she loved about Simon. He always had the ability to make her laugh in the most dire of situations.

"Where are Jace and the others?" Simon asked.

"Alec and Mom are in the library. Sebastian called Jocelyn just to screw with her, the creep. They've been trying to calm her down since she showed up. Jace. . . Well, I don't know what Jace is doing. Probably doing something against the law, or planning to do something against the law. At this point, I really don't care. The Clave are too slow and too inefficient. Sebastian has to be stopped once and for all. He texted saying that he's working on something and that he'll call us when he has a reason to. And I thought that I should probably be the one to tell you, because I was pretty sure Jocelyn and Jace wouldn't have bothered to call."

"It's not me I'm worried about, Iz," Simon said, wrapping his arms around her waist. "How are you holding up?"

"I'm fine," she said quickly. "And I am so sick of just sitting around and talking about it. Would you mind helping me? I want to do something, anything, to distract me from what's going on."

"Of course." Simon replied. "Anything you need."

Isabelle smiled a devilish grin. "I was hoping you'd say something like that." She leaned forward, wrapping her fingers in the material of his shirt, and kissed him. When he pulled her closer, pressing their bodies together and deepening the kiss, however, she pulled back, looking into his eyes. "Wait," she said huskily. "I want to try something."

Simon cocked his head to the side in confusion. "Like what?"

"Just close your eyes. It's a surprise."

Simon hesitated before finally indulging her. She took his hands and slowly led him through the Sanctuary. "Isabelle," he said. "Where are you taking me?"

She smiled to herself. "You'll see." Simon shook his head, but let her keep leading.

* * *

After a moment, Isabelle's hand left Simon's and he paused. "Iz? Where'd you go? Can I open my eyes now?"

"No," said Isabelle's voice, a little ways away from him. "Just wait there."

Simon listened intently, but his vampire senses were no match for the fresh soundless rune Isabelle had no doubt drawn on herself. A minute or two later, Isabelle's hand returned, and she was leading him again. She walked a few steps and seemed to hesitate for a moment before continuing forward. Simon felt as the cool chill of the Sanctuary was replaced by a much warmer setting. Isabelle's hands left his again, again, only for a moment, and then she was back. Except this time she wasn't moving. "Alright," she said, her voice sounding inexplicably exhilarated. "Open your eyes, Daylighter."

Simon did as he was told and squinted his eyes as he realized that the darkness of the Sanctuary had been replaced by a brightly lit hall, with what seemed like witchlight rune stones adorning torches hung up on the wall. _Wait_, he thought to himself._ I've seen this before. But that can't be._ He shook his head and dropped his gaze to Isabelle. "Where am I?"

"I think you already know, don't you?" she said, beaming.

"I mean, this looks just like the Institute but. . ." Upon seeing Isabelle's smile widen, he trailed off. "The Institute? Isabelle, am I standing in the Institute?" Seemingly unable to speak, Isabelle just nodded. "But. . . How?"

"I was always curious. Most vampires are Christian, so it's the Christian symbology like crosses that harm them. They can't pass on to consecrated ground because it's a ground they consider Holy. Only, you're Jewish. It was the Star of David and everything that hurt you, so I figured that a place built on a _Christian_ Holy ground. . ."

"Wouldn't hurt me." Simon finished for her, laughing in awe. "Isabelle, you're a genius!"

He pulled her into his arms and kissed her hard on her mouth. The two of them felt along the wall as they kissed, looking for a doorknob to a bedroom, any bedroom. At last they found one, and the door fell open behind Izzy, almost causing her to fall back. Simon, however, was there with his quick vampire reflexes. He picked her up, one arm under her knees and the other supporting her shoulders as he carried her over to the bed, kicking the door haphazardly closed behind him. Within seconds, both of them had lost their shirts, and Simon's hand was at the hem of Isabelle's tank top, pushing it up slowly as they kissed. Neither of them noticed the sound of the door opening.

"By the Angel! Simon? Isabelle!" said a voice from the doorway. Simon jumped up to see Alec standing next to the now-open door, his face thoroughly flushed.

Isabelle tugged her tank top back down and glared at her brother. "You don't knock now?"

"It's my bedroom!" Alec sputtered.

Simon and Isabelle took this moment to look around at the room they had intruded on. They saw weapons and weapons belts and clothes thrown everywhere, a bow and a quiver of arrows leaning against the nightstand, and, on the floor was a broken picture frame with a photo of Magnus and Alec together on one of their romantic getaways. Isabelle looked up at her older brother. "Oops?" she hazarded.

"What in the name of the Angel are you doing in here? And_ how_ in the name of the Angel is the_ Daylighter_ in the_ Institute_, much less my bedroom?"

"Long story," Simon said before Isabelle could launch into the in-depth version.

"Well, this is awkward. . ." supplied Isabelle, who was getting up to leave, dragging a still-shirtless Simon behind her.

"No, wait. Don't leave. I was just coming to grab my cell phone to call the both of you. Jace wants us all to head to Magnus as soon as possible. He says we need all hands on deck. Even Maia and Jordan."

Isabelle looked at Simon apprehensively. "Are you and Jordan going to be okay to be in the same room as each other?"

Simon nodded. "It's for Clary. We have to be."

* * *

Will and Jace had been in Brocelind tracking the werewolf for nearly an hour. The cold outside was nearly unbearable, and Will couldn't shake the feeling that they were being watched. "Jace?" he asked.

His _parabatai_ didn't look up at him as he spoke. "What?"

"Do you hear that?"

"That's not even remotely funny, Will."

"I'm not kidding," Jace whispered fervently. "I swear I feel like we're being watched."

Behind them, a twig snapped loudly. The both of them turned to face the direction of the noise. Jace turned back to Will and nodded. The two of them split up.

Will snuck through the trees, trying to sneak up on their follower. He saw a shadow move behind a tree and moved quickly to catch it. When he jumped around the tree, however, the cause of the shadow had disappeared. For a moment, he allowed himself to feel discouraged. That is, until he heard a struggle a short distance away. He rushed toward the sound, and found his _parabatai_ locked in a scuffle with a small figure whose head was covered with a dark hood. He immediately rushed to Jace's aid, grabbing the attacker from behind, surprised when the person was a lot lighter than he'd expected. He gripped the attacker close, pinning the shadow's arms to its sides, though it fought back, stronger than he would have thought for a creature of its size. Not a creature, he thought, when he heard her voice yell at him in a familiar tone, "Hey, get your hands off of me!" He dropped the small girl to the ground, and his eyes widened when the hood fell back to reveal a familiar fiery redhead with just as fiery eyes. He shook his head in bewilderment.

"Clary?" he said incredulously.

She smiled at him, though not without malice. "Hey sweetheart. Miss me?"

"Clary, what in the name of the Angel are you doing here?" said Jonathan, coming to stand next to Will.

Clary pushed herself up off of the ground, dusting dried leaves off of her gear. "Can't you guess?"

"If Father finds out- -"

"Oh, like I care anymore," she said, rolling her eyes. "I'm so sick of being his little porcelain doll. I'm not going to break. I'm a Shadowhunter. I was born a Shadowhunter, and that's what I'm going to be, despite what he seems to think."

"Well, apparently, he was right that you weren't ready. I mean, what Shadowhunter in his or her right mind comes out on a hunt alone?"

"I'm not alone, though," she replied innocently, which seemed very suspicious to Will.

"Following us doesn't count, Clary," said Will, irritably.

"I never said anything about you two."

Suddenly, Will felt a blade at his throat and his sighed. Of course Clary wouldn't go anywhere without her best friend.

"You're getting slow, Herondale," said a sultry voice from behind him, coming from the girl still holding her dagger to his throat. "I never used to be able to pull that on you."

"Yeah, well it would be lovely if you could pull that dagger on someone who actually deserved it, Isabelle."

Isabelle leaned forward, and he could feel her lips on his ear as she spoke. "But what would be the fun in that?"

Clary laughed. "Alright, Izzy. Let him go."

The blade was suddenly gone from Jace's throat and a beautiful, dark haired girl was stepping around to stand next to her own _parabatai_. Isabelle looked at Clary and smiled. "Told you we could catch them off guard."

"Yeah, I know," Clary said rolling her eyes again. "I'll let you use my good throwing knives when we get home. You won the bet."

"Isabelle. Nice to see that you're indulging yet another one of my sister's suicidal plans," said Jace.

Isabelle drifted over to to Will's _parabatai_ and beamed at him. "Not suicidal," she said. "Fun." She wrapped her arms around Jace's neck and kissed him softly.

Jace smiled at her. "Isabelle, I may love you to death but," he said pushing her away, "I think it may be time to buy you a dictionary for Christmas. Because obviously you have no idea what the word 'fun' actually mean."

"I know that you and I have _our_ fun all the time," Isabelle said sensually.

Clary and Will both cringed. "Gross, Iz!" Clary said.

"There are some things about friends you just don't want to know, Isabelle, and that is definitely one of them," added Will. "Now, why don't you and Clary go home. Your brothers can't be happy that you're out here."

"What Alec and Max don't know won't hurt them. Max isn't even old enough to start being overprotective of me yet. He just keeps his nose stuck in a book all day. And Alec nearly gets him and Wayland killed almost every time they go hunting. It my and Clary's turn for a fun adventure."

"Look, Clary," Jace began, "I know you're trying to prove yourself. But getting you and Isabelle killed is no way to do that."

Clary looked annoyed. More annoyed than Will had seen her in a long time. "Why does this have to end with me dying in your mind? I am just as good a Shadowhunter as you are."

"Oh really?"

"Yeah. I'll prove it, too. How about we make a game of this? First to the wolf kills it and gets to take the credit. And Dad knows exactly who delivered the final blow."

"Clary, this isn't a game and it isn't a race." Jace hissed. "I'm not letting you two go out there alone. It wouldn't even be an even fight if I did- -"

"Fine. Give me my boyfriend, and I'll give you your girlfriend. Evens it a bit, don't you think?"

Will sighed, knowing that his girlfriend was never going to let this go. "Come on, Jace. You know she'll never give up. She's just as stubborn as another Morgenstern I know."

"You're siding with her?" Sebastian said incredulously. "Oh, come on. No."

"Baby, please?" Isabelle coaxed. "For me?"

"By the Angel, I said no!"

Three pairs of eyes were burning into him, willing him to agree. "Oh, I'm going to regret this," he finally muttered under his breath.

"Is that a yes?" Isabelle asked hopefully.

Jonathan sighed, "Yes, fine. First to the wolf kills it. And our father, Clarissa, is to know that this was entirely your idea."

"Of course." Clary said, grinning maniacally. "Come on, Will."

* * *

Clary and Will were walking in a part of the forest than she'd never seen before, and it was obvious that it had been months at least since any other people had traveled here as well. It had been about half an hour since the two of them had broken away from Sebastian and Isabelle, and they were no further now than they had been then. "Will," Clary hazarded. "Can I ask you something?"

He made a dismissive noise as he continued walking, which Clary took as a "yes."

"When happened between you and your father this morning?"

Will's shoulders tensed visibly, but his voice was calm as he spoke. "Why do you ask that?"

"Because, when I found you two out in the gardens, you looked like you'd seen a ghost. Is something wrong?"

Will sighed. "I didn't want to say anything. . ." he began, and shook his head.

"What? Will, what's going on?"

Will stopped walking and turned to face Clary. "I asked my father what happened to Valentine's_ parabatai_. He's been so. . . Overprotective of _parabatai_ lately, even more so than any other Shadowhunter I've ever met. It really hit me this morning when he was talking to you about Izzy."

"Yeah, I asked my mom about it too. She wouldn't say. She just said it was complicated."

"I wish that's what my father had told me," Will replied blandly. "Clary, your father's _parabatai_ didn't just die. The word is that he'd done something, something that made your father want to kill him. Rumors were even going around that he was seeing Jocelyn. A few weeks later, Valentine and Lucian, his _parabatai_, were on a normal raid in a werewolves' nest and Lucian ended up getting bitten by one of them. If the rumors are true, Valentine let it happen, and then told his _parabatai_ to kill himself instead of living the disgraced life of a Downworlder."

Clary was taken aback, unsure what to say. "How does your father know all of this?" was all she could manage.

"Lucian used to be Valentine's right hand. My father is the one who replaced him. He even told me that he was married when it happened, but not to my mother. He was married to Lucian's sister, Amatis. Valentine made them get divorced after Lucian turned."

"But why? Will, you're making it sound like my father is some kind of of purist that hates Downworlders."

"Clary, he is. He wants Shadowhunters to rule the Earth, but he's just not ready to take over yet. Listen, he's planning something. My father couldn't tell me what, but he told me that if I could find Lucian, Valentine's _parabatai_, we might be able to stop him."

"You're crazy!" Clary exclaimed, pulling away from Will, unable to even look at him.

"I know you don't want to believe me, but you have to at least try to understand-."

"No! I won't just _try to understand_ that my father is some some kind of vigilante Shadowhunter that breaks the law and is inane and. . ." Clary trailed off, at a loss for words.

"You know," said a deep and unfamiliar voice from behind her, "you really should listen to him. He knows what he's talking about."

Clary spun around and saw an older man in a flannel shirt and faded jean standing before her. No, not a man. The scruffy hair and beard, the slight golden ring to his irises, the slight points to his teeth and hands meant that this was no ordinary man. It was a werewolf. The one they'd been hunting. Suddenly, the words he'd spoken held no meaning, and she reached down and pulled a throwing dagger from her thigh sheath and raised her arm lightening fast to throw it, surprised that the Downworlder made no move to get out of the way or stop her; he didn't even flinch.

There was a tight grasp around the wrist of the hand that held the knife and she looked back at it to find Will's hand like a vise on her own. "Clary, no! Stop!" He grabbed the blade out of her hand and released her.

"Will, what in the name of the Angel are you doing?"

"Clary, you can't kill this man."

"It's a rogue werewolf. We've found it and it's our_ duty_ to kill it."

"It's not, though. Clary, use your head. Think," Will pleaded.

Clary's head was swimming but she forced herself to close her eyes and focus. Will's story about her father's parabatai, Lucian. _Lucian._ The name she'd heard her mother mention to her father.

_". . .know it's Lucian," Jocelyn was saying. "How could you send your own son-?"_

_"It's just a hunt, Jocelyn," Valentine coaxed. "Nothing more. You're making too much of all of this."_

_"No, there is so much more to this than just a _hunt_, Valentine. This is you being too much of a coward to face your past-."_

And now Clary knew just what she meant. Her father hadn't taken this hunt only because he couldn't kill the one person that he'd once loved as a brother. His _parabatai._

"Lucian," she said out loud, though it was more a revelation to herself than to anyone else. Clary felt a stab of pain in her heart. Though, she assumed it was only because she had just discovered that her life had been built on a bed of lies.

The werewolf squinted his eyes. "Jocelyn?"

"No," Will said. "This is her daughter."

The wolf, who Clary now knew to be Lucian, closed his eyes and sighed. "Of course. Her daughter. Clarissa Seraphina Morgenstern. Your father wanted to name you Seraphina as your first name, and your mother wanted to call you Clarissa Adele, but they compromised." The pain in Clary's heart grew, and she put a hand over her chest. "And you," Lucian continued, turning to Will, "must be the brother. Jonathan Christopher. Or am I mistaken?"

"Actually, I'm William Herondale. Jonathan is my _parabatai_."

"Of course. Stephen's son. Jocelyn told me that's who had Valentine had appointed to replace after I left."

"Jocelyn? You've been talking to my mother?" The pain in Clary's heart was growing stronger, and she leaned on Will heavily, grasping at her chest.

"Clary? What's wrong?" Will asked, concern coloring his voice.

"Nothing. It's just a lot to take in I guess."

Lucian shot her a worried glance but continued. "Jocelyn and I were very close. She was my best friend. We couldn't let each other go, no matter what Valentine said. She found me a few months after I'd left."

"Well, I'm sure Father will be disappointed to hear that," said a voice from behind Will, and Clary turned to see Jace there, his crossbow in his hand.

"Jace, wait, don't do anything stupid," Clary began. "It's not what you th-"

Her sentence was cut off by a blood curdling scream as she sank to the ground, the physical pain in her heart nearly incapacitating. Will fell to his knees beside her, asking her if she'd been hurt, what was wrong. But she couldn't answer. Her hand grasped at the source of the pain in her chest. Will carefully pushed aside the top of her gear, revealing my the rune that had been place there when I was 14.

"It's her _parabatai_ rune," Luke exclaimed, and started forward to help her, only to be deferred by the crossbow bolt targeted at his heart.

"Stay where you are, mutt."

"Jace, don't!" Will pleaded. "He's not the enemy here. Valentine lied to you, to both of you."

"Oh, I know," Jace replied coolly, and, before any further objection could be made, he pulled the trigger and the bolt fitted to his crossbow flew into Lucian's chest, tearing through his heart.

Clary, still writhing in pain on the ground, watched in shock, just like Will.

Jace looked down and smiled at the two of them. "Oh, my bad, Will. You were trying to say something?"

Will shook his head and returned his gaze to Clary's bleeding _parabatai_ rune. "Wait," he said, suddenly coming to a realization he should have made much earlier. He turned to look up at Jonathan, who had abandoned the cross bow and now held a long sword in his hand. "Jace, where's Isabelle?"

Jace's grin spread. "Funny you should ask. I was wondering what was taking you so long to notice."

"Jonathan," Clary gasped. "Where is she?"

"My guess? Probably taking one of her last breaths as we speak. Have to give it to her, she fought pretty hard. Not hard enough, though. There's not a lot you can do once you're paralyzed from the neck down and all you can do is feel a knife slowly slicing your arteries open, letting all of the blood flow out of your body. Knowing that each heartbeat is step closer to being your last. Don't worry, though, little sister it will all be over soon."

Clary hated to admit it, but she could tell he was right. The pain was getting worse and he held Will's hand tight, partly out of her need to hold someone close to her, and partly to keep him from murdering her cruel brother. "Will," she said to him when he started to pull away from her to jump at Jonnathan, her voice a sob. "Please." Tears streamed down her face, and Will abandoned his attack attempt for the moment, holding her hand, squeezing her hand just as hard as she was squeezing his.

"I'm sorry, Clary," said Will, wiping a tear as it fell down her face. "I'm so sorry."

The sharpest pain Clary had ever felt surged through her body and she arched off the ground, screaming as loud as her voice would allow. And then, suddenly, it was over. There was no more pain. Clary collapsed back down to the ground, shaking. And she knew exactly what the pain's end meant. "No," she whispered through her tears. "By the Angel, no. _Isabelle_."

Will put an arm around her shoulders and pulled her up into his lap as she sobbed, while Jace stood behind them, just watching, or at least, that's what Clary thought. After a few moments, Clary became increasingly aware of the fact that Will's light hand on her shoulder had become very heavy, and the small soothing circles he'd been rubbing on her arm with his other hand had ceased as well. But it wasn't until a thick, warm, and sticky liquid spilled into her hair that she finally raised her head- -

- -and screamed bloody murder yet again. Will's throat had been cut clean through, nearly decapitating him. She backed away from her boyfriend quickly, horrified. Jace stood behind the body, his blood-painted sword hanging loosely in his hand. He kicked Will's body and it fell to the side, the rest of his blood spilling out. Clary's brother stepped unceremoniously over Will's corpse and strode lazily toward her. She crawled backward away from him until her back hit a tree.

"You see, little sister? You can't escape me. You can never escape me. I'm always here. In your dreams. I can always find you. Do you know why?" He leaned down and whispered into her ear, an action that would have sent shivers down her spine were she not already trembling uncontrollably. "Because you will always belong to me."

* * *

Clary's eyes flew open and she gasped aloud as she awoke from the nightmare. It was dark and she couldn't see anything, or remember anything for that matter. Her memories were all pretty fuzzy. All she could tell was that she was laying in a comfortable bed, with the sheets pulled on over her, and that she wasn't alone. Strong arms wrapped around her waist, and she relaxed immediately. _Oh_, she thought to herself, breathing out a sigh of relief. _It's just Jace._ She tried to move her arms to cover his, but found that her hands could not move.

"Bad dream?" whispered a voice in her ear, and she stilled. _Not Jace_, her mind was screaming. _This isn't Jace. It's not the blond haired angel boy you love. It's the demon boy. The one with the poison in his blood. Your brother. Jonathan Christopher Morgenstern. _


	6. Chapter 5: Father's Child

**A/N: SOOOOOOO Sorry for the huge delay guys! I just started University and I have barely had a chance to write lately. Please forgive me! Hope you like this chapter. If not, well. . . Sorry. :) I have planned all the way through the end of part one and the beginning of part two now, so I should be able to update soon. Please rate and review. (By the way, thanks for all the sweet reviews you've left! You have no idea how much they help me and keep me going!) Also, be sure to check out my Facebook page, The Best Mortal Instruments Quotes, if you want to see snippets from when I'm writing the next chapter!**

**5**

**Father's Child**

Jordan shut the door behind him as he and Maia, the last of the group to arrive, entered Magnus's apartment. "Sorry we're late," Jordan said. "I was in the middle of something when I got your call."

"Just be glad we didn't start without you," replied Magnus coolly.

"Yes, well now they're here, Magnus," said Alec. "Now can you please tell me why you dragged us all here on such short notice? Is it Clary? Have you found her?"

"Do you think if I'd have found Clary, Alexander, that I would just be sitting around waiting for you all to show up?" Magnus snapped.

"Look, you two," Jace said irritably. "I do not have time for your fighting. So either kiss and make up already, or stay away from each other. Magnus, you said something about wanting to tell us about your family. What do you mean? Is it something that can help Clary?"

"Maybe." Magnus sighed and sat down on the couch, gesturing for the others to sit on the various recliners and love seats scattered around the room. "Look, Jace, there are things that I was never willing to do when you were gone. I mean, yeah, it would have been a terrible loss if you'd died, but, in Sebastian's hands, you were just another Shadowhunter."

"And here I thought we were such great friends, Magnus," Jace answered, feigning hurt.

Magnus rolled his eyes and continued. "But, what you said about Clary was right. She's a weapon in Sebastian's hand. She'll do anything he wants her to do if she drinks from the Infernal Cup, and she'll do it willingly, just like you when you still had Lilith's Mark. Only, Clary has the power to create new runes. If Sebastian was suddenly in control of that power, all Hell would break loose."

"Yes, we've established this already Magnus," said Simon, leaning forward with his hands on his knees. "Sebastian having Clary is definitely a disaster. We know that. The question is how do we get her back?"

"And what's it got to do with your family?" Alec added.

Magnus rubbed his hands over his eyes. "I think this might be easier to explain if I show you all something first." He held out his hand. "Which one of you has a witchlight with you?"

"A witchlight?" Isabelle questioned. "What on Earth do you need a witchlight for?"

"I can't explain it," Magnus explained irritably. "Do you have one with you?"

"Of course I do but—"

"Give it to him, Isabelle," Alec interjected unexpectedly. "You're going to want to see this. Trust me."

Alec and Magnus both shared a knowing glance, and Isabelle reluctantly gave up the small witchlight rune stone from her pocket. Magnus took it gently, and then held it up so everyone in the room could see. The others, with the exception of Alec, who had seen this before, watched in amazement as the witchlight lit up, though not in the normal bright white glow of a witchlight. Instead, the stone glowed blood red. Isabelle's mouth fell open, as did Simon's. Maia and Jordan just looked around at the Shadowhunters to see if they had any idea as to what was happening. Jace looked confused, his eyebrows knitted together in deep thought. Alec, unlike the others, was unfazed, having already seen the trick before, the night Magnus had broken up with him.

After a few minutes of the other gawking at Magnus, the light finally began to dim, and he handed it back to a shock-faced Isabelle.

"What in the name of the Angel," Jace finally said after a moment of eerie silence, "was that?"

"Told you that you wanted to see it," Alec mumbled under his breath, grinning.

"You weren't wrong," Jace replied, not turning his attention from Magnus. "I've never seen a witchlight do that before, especially for anyone other than a Shadowhunter. How did you do that?"

"You all know the story of the first Nephilim and how, since then, Shadowhunters are born with their powers from the Angel's blood they have inside of them?"

"Magnus, I'm not even a _Shadowhunter_ and I know that," Simon replied. "I'm pretty sure everyone in the Shadow World knows that story."

Magnus glared at him and he slammed his mouth shut instantly. "Have you ever wondered, though, what would happen if an angel and a mundane were to have a child directly? Not just for the child to be of the bloodline of an angel, but an actual child of an Angel of Heaven?"

"Is that even possible?" Maia asked.

"I didn't think so," Jace replied, with a tired expression that seemed to say _I don't know what to think anymore._ "After everything I've seen in the past couple of months though, I'm not sure there's anything I won't believe anymore."

"Magnus," Alec spoke carefully, as if trying not to sound skeptical, and in the process sounded like a parent telling a child to stop making up stories. "Are you telling me that your father was an angel?"

"Not exactly," Magnus hazarded, dreading the idea of telling anyone the truth about his father. "He wasn't an angel when I was created, but he had been, long before."

"An angel who isn't an angel anymore? What does that even mean?" Isabelle interjected.

"A fallen angel," said Alec, his voice barely a whisper. "Camille told me that your father is a Prince of Hell."

"And he is. Before he was known as a devil in this world, he was just another angel. The namesake of Clary's family, as a matter of fact. The Morning Star."

"Lucifer," Jace, finally speaking up again, said, a horrified expression on his face. "You're the son of Lucifer?"

"A demon, perhaps, but originally an angel. That is why my powers are so great. That is why I can hold that witchlight and it will glow for me. It is why, should I hold a seraph blade, I am the only individual in this world who can call one forth in the name of my father. A blade like one you've never seen before."

"Alright," Simon began, erasing the silence before it had had a solid chance to set in. "So, you're some kind of crazy powerful Shadowlock or whatever you want to call yourself because you're the child of a fallen angel. That I can understand, despite the fact that I did not think there was anything out there that could freak me out anymore. But, Magnus, what has this got to do with Clary?"

"It doesn't have anything to do with her per se; this is me, helping you find a way to track down Sebastian."

"Fine," Jace said hotly. "Whatever. What is it you're planning on doing? HOw is knowing who your father is going to help us find Sebastian? Are you going to raise him like you did Azazel? Because last time I checked, that didn't work so great, and Simon's Mark of Cain is even gone now, so if you're planning on using him again, you're just out of luck."

"Jace," Alec began, before Jace held up a hand to silence him.

"Not now Alec. Now, Bane, tell me _exactly _what it is you're planning on doing."

"I, personally, am going to discuss the matter with the others. You, on the other hand, are going to go into the other room and cool off a bit, so to speak."

"What are you talking about? I'm fine!" Jace protested.

"Oh, really?" Magnus gestured at the table that Jace was leaning up against. Jace let his eyes wander to the pile of mail on the table top, all of it white envelopes or sales pitches, and all of it burning to a crisp in the small flame that was now engulfing it. Jace gasped and quickly tossed the mail on the floor, stomping out the fire. When it had been smothered, Jace raised a sheepish face to look at everyone else.

"Smooth one," said Isabelle, rolling her eyes.

"I always knew you were a hot head, Jace, but that's going just a little overboard," Simon jeered.

"Look kids, this is Chef Jace's first dish of the day. Mail _flambe._" Jordan added, making Maia crack up laughing.

"Wolf, I swear," Jace said increasingly irritably, "another word from either of you and the library at the Institute is going to have a couple of new fur rugs."

"Oh, come on, Jace. Relax. We get it. You were just trying to prove you're hot in the absence of the one girl who agrees with you. . ." Alec began, trailing off when he realized how far over the line he'd stepped.

Jace spun on him, face red with fury, but right as he opened his mouth to speak, Magnus interrupted him.

"Enough!" he proclaimed. "All of you. Before the free-standing space heater over here barbeques my whole apartment." Jace narrowed his eyes at the Warlock, and Magnus watched as a flame suddenly appeared on the other boy's shirt sleeve. "Jace," he continued. "Go into the bedroom and stay there until one of us comes to fetch you."

"I am not some dog's chew toy, Bane. And I'm not going anywhere." A pair of scented candles on the dining room table several feet behind Jace ignited, burning brighter than they normally should have been able to. "She's _my_ girlfriend."

"And it's not going to do anyone any good if you torch us all before we can even look for her!"

"You can't just shut me out of this!" The fire on Jace's sleeve was spreading now, but he didn't seem to notice, and the others in the room began to distance themselves from the human bonfire that he was becoming.

"Of course I can," Magnus said, smiling mischievously.

"Over my dead body."

Magnus sighed. "If you insist," he replied, and, with a wave of his hand, Jace's face had gone slack, and he slumped to the floor. Lazily, Magnus stood up, pulled a bouquet of dead flowers out a vase from the table next to the sofa, and poured the vase's liquid contents on Jace's shirt, extinguishing the flames.

"Jace!" Isabelle cried, rushing to kneel at his side. She turned to glower at Magnus. "What in the name of the Angel did you do to him?!"

"Relax, would you? I just knocked him unconscious. He'll only be out for a little while. Really, Isabelle, it's like you don't trust me at all." Isabelle rolled her eyes and stood back up, moving to lean on the arm of the chair in which Simon sat. Magnus bent down to pick up Chairman Meow, who had hidden under a table when things had begun catching fire. "Now," he continued. "Jordan, if you'd be so kind as to help Jace into the other room, I'd be very grateful. And, if you could stay in there to watch him and make sure he doesn't wake up and burn the whole building down?"

"Why am _I_ on Shadowhunter babysitting duty?" Jordan asked indignantly.

"Because you've know Clary for the least amount of time amongst the rest of us, and therefore, I believe you are of better use outside of this discussion. I'm sure we can manage without you. If that turns out to be false, I will be sure to come and let you know."

Jordan began to protest further, but Maia brought up her hand to touch his arm gently. He looked down to her, her eyes sympathetic but urgent. He sighed, mumbling something under his breath. Magnus couldn't hear what it was, but he could tell it was something nasty about always getting the short end of the stick.

Once Jace and Jordan were safely behind the closed door of Magnus's bedroom, the Warlock looked at the other four each in turn, speaking quietly. "Alright, now, there are a few things to talk about."

"Yeah," Alec replied. "Why don't we start with: how in the name of the Angel this little revelation of yours is going to help us find Sebastian?"

"Well, I have a few ideas about that. One in particular. And you aren't going to like it."

* * *

Clary jumped up off the bed and away from her brother's arms. She spun around to glare at Sebastian, who had turned on a lamp beside the bed and was smirking at her as he lay back on the pile of pillows, propping himself up on his elbow so that he could look at her. He wore the same gear he'd worn in the alley, though by now he'd taken the boots off, as well as the weapons belt. Clary wondered for a brief moment how long she had been asleep.

"Aw. Why the long face little sis?" Sebastian asked condescendingly. "Not who you were expecting to wake up to?"

"You could say that," she muttered coldly, her head exploding. Whatever Sebastian had drugged her with, it had left behind a nasty headache and a bitter metal taste in her mouth.

Her brother slipped off the bed gracefully and slowly began to close the distance between himself and Clary. She, in return, was backing away as quickly as she could, afraid of what would happen once he was finally next to her. Her heel hit something hard, and she turned to see that she had backed into a wooden chair—only this wasn't an ordinary wooden chair. On the arms and front legs were iron manacles, like something one might see in a museum exhibit about medieval torture instruments. She gasped and backed away from it, directly into her brother's arms, which wrapped around her so tightly they nearly crushed the air from her lungs. "Let me go!" she screamed, though Sebastian seemed not to hear her; or, if he did, he didn't seem to care. He turned her around quickly and pushed her down into the chair, easily maneuvering past her struggles, first cuffing both of Clary's wrists one by one, and then doing the same for her ankles.

Slowly, Sebastian stood up and backed away from her, sneering at Clary as she pulled relentlessly against the iron manacles. "Careful. Wouldn't want you to hurt yourself. Then again. . ." He smirked, leaving the end of the sentence up in the air.

"Let me go, you son of b—"

"Careful now, sis. Don't forget: that's your mother too."

Clary glared at him. "Let me go. I swear, Sebastian, let me go right now or I'll—"

"You'll what?" Sebastian remarked, rolling his eyes at her. "You'll _look _me to death?" He laughed shortly and leaned down, uncomfortably close, and she turned her face away from him. "Look at me, Clarissa" he whispered into her ear. She shook her head, refusing to turn back to him. He reached out, before she even realized he had moved, and grabbed her chin, his sharp nails digging into the soft flesh there. Though Clary fought him, he yanked her face around to look at his, and Clary noticed the fire in his eyes that meant he was losing his little patience with her. She stared back at him defiantly.

"You know you're lying to yourself," he said. "You _want_ to trust me, your mind just isn't letting you."

Clary shook her head. "You're imagining things. I _hate _you. I can't stand you, much less trust you."

"Oh, really? Then tell me: when you woke up from whatever nightmare you found yourself in earlier, and I put my arm around you, you calmed down immediately. Why would you do that if you didn't at least want to trust me?"

Clary had hoped that Sebastian hadn't noticed this. She felt ashamed of herself, closing her eyes and letting her head droop down. "I thought you were Jace."

Sebastian's hand cracked across Clary's face, and she looked up at in astonishment, wanting to bring her hand up to cup the stinging flesh, but prevented from doing so by the cold metal still encircling her wrists. Sebastian was glaring at her menacingly. "Don't say that name to me," he commanded.

Clary scoffed. "If I'm lying to myself, so are you. This isn't about your dark Shadowhunters or you just wanting to burn down the world. You wouldn't have brought me here if that's all this was. You have a thousand other things you could be doing right now, but you chose to take me and bring me here. You can say whatever you want, spout out however many excuses you can think of, but I know the truth. I am the one thing that Jace had that you could never have, and you were just jealous. You've always been jealous of him."

"Just one problem with your theory, little sister. Jace doesn't have you right now." Sebastian leaned forward, a twisted smile on his face. "I do." He laughed unexpectedly, surprising Clary, who looked up at her brother like he'd lost the little sanity he had left. "I've won! Can't you see? I've won!"

Clary narrowed her eyes at him in disbelief and shook her head. "That's your problem, Sebastian. You think this is a _game_?"

"But of course it is, Clary. You can't tell me this isn't a little bit fun for you, as well."

"_Fun_?" Clary repeated incredulously. "You think it's fun for me to be going through this? To have to deal with the fact that I want my only brother dead, just as badly as I wanted my father dead? It's _killing_ me. It would be killing you too, if you had a conscience. If Valentine hadn't have stripped away your humanity, you'd be just like me right now."

"Or," said Sebastian, "would you be just like me?" Off of her blank look, he elaborated. "Come on. _Think,_ Clary. If I'd never been given my demon powers, you would have grown up with Valentine, just the same as I did. I know you've thought about it at some point or another. What do you imagine you would have turned out like had we really been raised in the one big happy family you've been imagining since you found out who I am?"

Clary's mind wandered back to the dream she'd been having before she'd woken up in the bed with Sebastian. She thought about how different everything had been, and not only with Sebastian. Jace, Isabelle, Jocelyn, Luke, and even herself were all completely different people. Her mind left the dream before it had to relive the horrifying ending. "I know I wouldn't be the same person." She looked up into her brother's eyes. "But, at this point, I don't even care. If it meant you were different, I would give anything to go to that."

"But _would I be different? _That's the question. Surely you don't think that everything I've done is because of who I am, the blood that runs in my veins? Have you never thought that, just maybe, Valentine's upbringing is what made me like this in the first place?"

"Except, you're forgetting that you aren't the only one who grew up with Valentine. Jace—"

"Jace," Sebastian remarked scornfully. "Jace was a screw up. He let his heart get in the way of what needed to be done, so Valentine got rid of him after only ten years. He couldn't face the fact that he had completely failed as a parent with him."

"You're wrong. Valentine loved him just as much as he loved you. He had to let Jace go for his own safety. He would have kept him longer had he not gotten that letter. He was worried about what might happen to him, so he had to fake his death, send Jace to the Lightwoods."

"Standing up for your old man, are you?" Sebastian commented nastily. "Funny. I thought you hated him as much as everyone else did. I mean, you did kill him didn't you?"

Clary ignored this last comment. "Everyone except for you. You didn't hate him."

"Of course I did."

"How can you say that? You were the one child Valentine _wanted_. He loved you, he kept you with him, even after Jace was gone he watched over you, he trained you and he brought you up. How can you even—?"

"Can't you see? I mean, do you really not get it?" Sebastian remarked incredulously.

Clary, unsure what he meant, remained silent.

"Clary, Valentine _hated_ me. He raised me to be a demon. Why? Why would a man who just wants to eradicate demons and Downworlders from the Earth create an entirely new evil, worse than either of them? Because all I was, all I ever was to my father was an experiment. A test."

"A test?"

"For you! Valentine always wanted the perfect Shadowhunter child. It's what he was always trying to make. He created me, but then he created you and Jace to destroy me! He always intended for me to die! To prove that you two were the best Shadowhunters, the perfect warriors he thought you were, he had to create something worse than any other Shadowhunters would ever face, something worse than a greater demon, the worst enemy possible to test your abilities."

"You can't honestly believe that—"

"I found his journals! At the apartment, there were hundreds of journals about each of us, research journals, talking about how we were advancing toward our 'destinies'. At least, that's what he called it. Clary, he knew where you and your mother were the whole time after she took you away from Idris. The reason he didn't come after you or Jace was because he didn't think you were ready yet. With Jocelyn taking away your memories and your sight, he said that your growth was being stunted, that your abilities weren't forming right. He knew that if he waited too long, he's miss his chance, so created a situation in Tanzania and he waited."

"Tanzania? Sebastian, what does that—?"Clary trailed off as a scene materialized in her mind. A conversation she'd overheard between her mother and Luke the day the Ravener demon had attacked her at her Brownstone. _"… Bane," Jocelyn was saying. "I've been calling him and calling him for the past three weeks. His voice mail says he's in Tanzania. . ."_

Clary's apartment disappeared, replaced by Magnus' dark bedroom the night of his party, the night they had first met. _"We were due for another visit about a month ago," Magnus had said. "I even came by your house when I got back from Tanzania. . ."_

"Magnus was in Tanzania right around the time my sight started coming back," Clary mumbled to herself, her gaze turning inward. "It's the reason my mom didn't take me to him to do the spell before Valentine came after her. . ." Clary looked up at her brother. "He planned for Magnus to be out of the country?"

"He wanted to give you some time for your sight to start coming back before he set things in motion. Though the warlock figured out the problem in Tanzania quite a bit faster than Valentine thought possible, and he had to move the schedule up by a few weeks."

"What do you mean 'set things in motion'? What did Valentine do? You told me about Magnus, but what else did he do, Sebastian?"

Clary's brother scoffed at her. "Have you really never wondered how you and the Lightwoods just happened to end up at the Pandemonium club on the same night?"

"Of course, but. . ." Clary froze. "No. He couldn't. There's no way Valentine—"

"No way Valentine could bribe a demon to allow himself to be tracked by a pack of Shadowhunters to a club that you frequented on Sunday nights?"

Clary felt the blood drain from her face in shock. "No," she whispered. "You're lying. You have to be."

"I have no reason to lie. You're just in denial. Valentine played your life and Jace's like a game of chess. You've never had control about your own future. You were just an experiment. Just a pawn. And I was your greatest test, both of yours. But you lost. You've failed the test. I win. I will always win." Clary realized that her brother had come dangerously close to her, and he whispered the last few words into her ear, making her shiver.

"No one's won, yet," Clary replied, fighting to keep her voice calm. "It's still anyone's game."

"Unfortunately," Sebastian answered, disappearing behind Clary, which set her nerves on edge and sent her heart rate racing. "At the moment you're right, dear Clarissa. But all of that will soon change." Finally, after a few excruciating minutes, Sebastian came back into Clary's field of vision. Only he now held something. A gleaming black chalice, the size and shape of the Mortal Cup. But, as both Clary and her brother knew, this cup wasn't seraphically allied. Clary gasped at the sight of it, instantly renewing her efforts to escape. "_Everything_ will change now," Sebastian continued. "I will finally have the upper hand I need. The Shadowhunters will be brought to their knees, and they will witness the death of this world before their very eyes. Finally, I will have the advantage I need to destroy them all. Once you've drunk from the cup, Clary, we can destroy all of them, all of this world. Together."

Clary shook her head violently, but did not respond. Instead, she kept her lips sealed as her brother started forward, pushing the cup painfully against her mouth. Tears sprung to her eyes in a fierce determination. She knew exactly what would happen if she parted her lips: she would drink the black mixture of demon blood in the cup, and she would become one of _them_—the dark Shadowhunters. Sebastian would have her create runes, any runes he wanted, and she would give them to him without a second thought. She couldn't let this happen. She couldn't betray her friends—she'd rather die.

As she thrashed around, Clary's heart leapt in her chest as she realized that the iron manacles on the wooden chair were not as tightly connected to the arms and legs of the chair as they had been when Sebastian had first locked them on. Whether they were coming unbolted or whether the wood was slowly breaking apart, Clary didn't know or care. She now had a new sense of hope, and thought to herself that maybe, just maybe, if she could fight off Sebastian long enough, she might be able to stop the destruction before it had even begun. She kept fighting, turning her head away, doing everything she could to pull up the cuffs. She could feel them about to give way. _Just a few more seconds, _she thought to herself. . .

* * *

Jordan was leaned up against the bedroom door, listening to the mumbled conversation out in the living room. Behind him, he heard a voice grunt and turned around to see Jace, who seemed to be regaining consciousness.

"Good morning, sunshine." Jordan said sarcastically.

Jace raised his head and then the rest of his upper body, reaching up one hand to the back of his head. He winced when his fingers came in contact with the area of his head that had hit the floor the hardest. Jordan struggled to hide his smile but failed miserably.

"What are you laughing at, wolf?" said Jace grudgingly.

"Nothing," Jordan said, sneering. "I just find it funny that you're in time out."

Jace rolled his eyes at the werewolf, standing up out of the bed and attempting to brush past him. "Get out of my way."

Jordan put out an arm to stop him. "Jace, you can't be out there right now. Remember what just happened? You almost set the whole apartment on _fire_."

"I don't care," Jace said, moving to go past the other boy again, and again finding his path blocked. "I'm warning you, Kyle—"

"Jace, listen. You have to calm down and stay calm. You have to find a way to keep your heart rate down so that you don't turn into a giant walking sun every time you get angry."

Jace rolled his eyes yet again, but finally conceded, sitting down on the foot of Magnus's bed. "So, Jordan, what are you going to do? Are you a trained psychologist? Are you going to make me do ridiculous exercises and make me talk about my feelings so that we can find out what my _real_ problem is?" Jace took on the air of an older man with a nasally voice. "'Catching yourself on fire is just a metaphor, isn't it, Jace? Why don't you sit down and tell me your _real_ feelings about everything?'" Then, without warning, Jace was back to himself again, glaring at Jordan. "You aren't a shrink."

"No one's saying you need one. I'm just saying that maybe it wouldn't be such a bad idea to examine your life. You know, find what makes you happy so that, when you really, _really_ feel like bursting into flames, you can think about something happy and make all of that go away. So. . ." Jordan continued awkwardly. "What makes you happy?"

Jace looked up at him exasperatedly. "I am not having this conversation right now."

Jordan went on, ignoring him. "Come on, tell me. Is it Clary? Maybe being around family? What gives you peace of mind, Jace? What calms you down?"

Jace slid off the edge of the bed, curling himself inward and covering his face with his hands. "I am not talking to you about this!" he muttered through his fingers angrily.

"Look, I'm not asking for your life story. Trust me, this is awkward for me too. I don't want to talk about any of this, and I really couldn't care less about your feelings." Jace looked at him in feigned hurt, but Jordan continued. "But, as I would really prefer not to become something you could serve up at Christmas dinner, we have to talk about this. _You _have to talk about this. So tell me. What thoughts make you happy? A person? An event? Anything?"

Jace stayed silent for a moment, and Jordan was afraid that he wasn't going to respond. But, after a moment, Jace spoke, not raising his gaze to meet Jordan's. "There's a difference between 'making me happy' and 'calming me down'. Clary makes me happy, but she also drives me crazy. Thinking about her, especially now, when I don't know where she is or if she's. . ." He paused, unable to finish the thought, and Jordan noticed the faint glow coming off his skin, illuminating the darkened space slightly. "That's not something to calm me down."

"Okay," Jordan responded encouragingly. "That's something. So what _does_ calm you down?"

"There's this image I keep seeing in my head," Jace mumbled. "Sebastian is there. He thinks he's already won. He doesn't realize that he's really just lost everything. We're fighting and he thinks he has the upper hand on me, but he's wrong. I'm able to slip past him and stab him right through the heart. The thought of killing him brings me joy. The idea of watching as the blood drains out of his body and knowing that his death brings with it the end of the war, that brings me happiness," Jace finished darkly, and Jordan sighed, sinking down to the floor a little ways away from Jace and catching his eyes.

"No killing," Jordan said. "We're trying to make you feel peaceful, so you don't go up in flames. Blood, killing, war, those are all non-peaceful things. Isn't there anything else you like? Rainforests? Chirping birds?"

"Weapons," said Jace. "I like weapons."

"I'm starting to think we have a problematic issue of personal philosophy here."

Jace leaned forward, his palms flat on the ground. "I'm a warrior," he said. "I was brought up as a warrior. I didn't have toys, I had weapons. I slept with a wooden sword until I was five. My first books were medieval demonologies with illuminated pages. The first songs I learned were chants to banish demons. I know what brings me peace, and it isn't sandy beaches or chirping birds in rainforests. I want a weapon in my hand and a strategy to win."

Jordan looked at him levelly. "So you're saying that what brings you peace … is war."

"Now you get it."

For a moment, Jordan was silent. After a minute, he finally broke the silence, clapping his hands together and jumping to his feet. "Alright, then. Now that we've got that out of the way, I think it's time to rejoin the others."

Jace eyed him suspiciously. "Why the sudden change of heart?"

"Look, I can tell that you're working on it. I can tell that you're trying. What happened earlier, that was an isolated incident. Now that you know what really gives you peace, I think you'll be okay."

"What makes you so sure?" Jace inquired.

"When you were talking about Clary, you started glowing like crazy. I thought for a second you were going to catch fire again—your shirt even started smoking. But then, when you started talking about Sebastian, you got dead calm. By the time you were finished telling me all that stuff about your childhood, you were completely back to normal. I get it now. You aren't like everyone else, Jace. What would drive any normal person crazy or get them upset is what makes you the happiest and most peaceful, and vise versa. I get it now. There's no way to change it. And now that you actually _know_ what calms you down, I think you'll be okay."

Jace's gaze turned inward. "You really think that's all it takes?" he said hopefully.

"Do you want to test it?" Jordan answered nervously. "You know, I could do something to get you really angry and see if it works?"

"Are you sure you want to try something like that?" Jace hazarded.

Without further commentary, Jordan slugged Jace in the jaw, rocking him backward on his heels. Jace looked up in surprise—and anger. "By the Angel, wolf. I swear I am going to—"

"Jace," Jordan said cautiously. "Just remember Sebastian. Remember all you said earlier. Now _calm down_."

Jace, despite the rage flowing through him, managed to slam his eyes shut and allowed the image of a bleeding, dying Sebastian return to him. Slowly but surely, he felt the fire coursing through him die down, and his breath began to steady itself. He opened his eyes and looked at a very pale-looking Jordan.

"You did it," he said, laughing disbelievingly.

"Yeah," Jace said, looking down at his normal, non-glowing hand. "I guess I did."

* * *

"Are you mentally _insane_, Magnus Bane?" Isabelle blurted out. "Okay, fine, so you're father is Lucifer, but why does that have to mean—?"

"Isabelle, my father is not just any demon. He's a—no, _the—_Prince of Hell. Now, despite what is held as common belief, Hell isn't as close to Earth as you might think. It's an entirely different demonic dimension, one that I can't reach very easily. If any normal warlock tried to summon Lucifer, they would die trying, no matter how powerful they are. Now, I, being Lucifer's child, have more powers than the average warlock, and so would probably not die in the process of a feeble attempt at summoning him. Though, I _would_ most likely lose any and all power I ever had. And I, frankly, don't want to even attempt to live the boring live of a mundane. I'm not even sure I would be able to survive a day." No one in the room seemed inclined to argue, though Alec seemed to be letting the idea of a mundane Magnus linger in his mind. "Anyway, warlocks have this way of contacting their demon parents. It's not something many of us ever have need to use, and so it's not really a practiced form of magic. Most warlocks can summon their demon parent with a simple enough spell to ask of them whatever it is they might need. I can't do this for two reasons. First, contact with the demon part of our heritage is forbidden by the Covenant law, and I'm already treading on thin ice with the Clave as it is. And secondly, getting in contact with my father is a far trickier process than all that."

"Lucifer's not just any demon, like you said. You can't just summon him," Alec supplied helpfully. "But your father had to leave you with some form of communication, some form of reaching him?"

"Yes, Alexander, which is what I was trying to explain to you all before." Magnus sighed exasperatedly, and then continued, slower than when he had tried explaining earlier. "My father cannot travel out of his own world, but, as a son of his, I am awarded a luxury, if you can call it that, that is afforded to no other warlock in existence—I can personally walk into Hell to speak to Lucifer. I have never done this, as I have never been in a situation in which I have needed his help desperately enough to ask it. But this situation could bring about the end of the world, and I don't believe we can do this alone and without his help. It will take a few hours to find all the right texts I will need and all the ingredients for the ritual I will need to perform, but I am willing to do it."

"Magnus, you said yourself that contact with your demon parent is against Covenant law," Simon said, speaking up. "Why would you do this? _How_ would you do this? What will the Clave do when they find out?"

"They won't find out—" Isabelle began, but Magnus interrupted her.

"No," he said. "Isabelle, we have enough problems with the Clave as is. We can't afford for them not to know. But, if we can convince them that they need this just as much as we do, then maybe we can do it without breaking any laws. They're already at the end of their rope. They need all the help they can get. The Clave _knows_ it has to change its views on the world if it is going to survive. We just have to give it that little nudge it needs to get going."

"But, Magnus. . ." Maia began, her voice smaller than usual. She had been sitting quietly in a chair slightly apart from the others since Jordan had left, just barely paying attention to the conversation at hand. But she was paying her full attention now. "Would you really do it? I mean, walking into Hell all alone? Even as Lucifer's son, you're part human. Aren't you scared of what will happen if you go?"

"I'm more scared of what might happen if I don't, I'm afraid," Magnus answered. "We need to find Sebastian. None of my magic has been able to track him, and we don't have much more time. My father runs Hell, he is in charge of demons every day. I am sure that he will be able to shed some light on the situation, maybe even tell us where to find Clary."

"And what if he doesn't help?" said Alec tiredly. "Magnus, what if he tricks you into staying or something? What if something goes wrong? Or what if he just doesn't give you anything you've asked for? What if you go down there and it's all been for nothing?"

"So what if he does, Alexander? So what if it is all for nothing? At least we'll have tried something instead of sitting around for Clary's body to turn up in a back alley or on the doorstep of the Institute." Magnus regretted the words as soon as he had spoken them. Simon's face had gone white and his features were like stone. Quickly, he got up and walked out of the room toward the kitchen.

"Simon, wait!" Isabelle called and ran after him.

Maia watched her as she left, waiting a moment before returning her gaze to Magnus and Alec. "I. . . I think I should probably go make sure Simon is alright."

"Maia—" Magnus began, then cut off his own sentence with a sigh. Alec put a hand lightly on his, which he quickly shook off, looking back up at Maia. "Tell him I'm sorry. I don't know what's gotten into me."

Maia nodded slowly, and then got up and walked out of the room in the same direction as Simon and Izzy.

* * *

Tara scowled to herself as she stepped out of Taki's Diner into the bright moonlight. Even though the sun had been safely down for hours, she still hated the unusually harsh light coming down from the nearly-full moon in the otherwise black sky. She looked down briefly at her watch, rolling her eyes when she saw how late it was. She knew Raphael would be furious with her when she returned to the Dumort—a lot of the local vampires in the Mahattan Clan had gone missing in recent weeks and, though Raphael seemed to know exactly who was behind it, he hadn't told them anything. He had, however, instigated a curfew to the entire clan, much to everyone's dismay. Tara was still disgruntled about the whole thing; after all, she wasn't a teenaged mundane living in her parents' house while she was going to high school or something. She was a _vampire._ There wasn't much she couldn't handle. In her opinion, Raphael was freaking out about nothing. Those fledglings had probably run off to some other clan, tired as she was of Raphael's paranoid ramblings that someone was after him and his clan.

As she walked down the street alone, she felt a whoosh of air behind her and froze. "Raphael," she grumbled irritably. "I just text you and told you not to freak out—" She broke off. For standing behind her was not Raphael Santiago, but a younger-looking, blonde-haired girl. She couldn't have been more than fourteen. She looked lost.

Tara looked around to see if there was anyone else around that the girl could have belonged to, but the street was empty besides the two of them. The girl was alone.

There was an awkward silence between the two of them before Tara finally spoke, moving tentatively toward the girl, who didn't move. "Hey," she said stiffly. "You alright, there, kid?"

The girl didn't answer. Her eyes were examining Tara coldly and calculatingly. She was surprised that her own fangs had not slid into place in the presence of a mundane. Normally, they would sense the blood before she even made the conscious decision to bare them.

"Look, you shouldn't be hanging out in the streets this late at night, kid. You should go on home," Tara said, eyeing the girl carefully. She noted that the girl was wearing a low-cut red blouse—even though there wasn't much to show off—as well as a ruffled black mini skirt.

Tara finally caught the girl's gaze, and this time, the girl spoke, though not in response to what Tara had just said. "You called me Raphael," the girl stated calmly.

Though it hadn't been a question, Tara replied, "Yeah, sorry. I, um. . . I thought you were someone else."

"Oh, I know," the little girl said, a playful smile coming to her lips. flipping her long, blond hair behind her. "You thought I was Raphael Santiago."

Tara furrowed her brow at her. "You know Raphael?"

"Of course I do. He's ruining everything, you know. People look at him as if he's the rightful leader of this clan after Camille's death. But he isn't. He has no more right to run you all than you do!" The girl's voice became angrier and louder, her hands balled up in fists by her sides.

Tara shook her head at the girl. "Who do you think you are, little girl? Raphael killed Camille because he knew she would destroy our clan. _He_ killed her and so _he _is our leader."

This seemed to be the final straw for the girl. "Did he now? Is that what he's been telling you?" The girl snarled and Tara could see the needle-like fangs that she was flashing. "Raphael Santiago is just another of the clan, just as you are. You are _expendable. _And, if you wish to survive to see tomorrow, you'll swear your allegiance to me."

"Swear my allegiance?" Tara laughed at the incredulous thought. "I don't even know who you are, kid. You look like you just walked out of a Disney movie. So why would I swear my allegiance to you, turn my back on my family?"

"My name isn't 'kid'. It is Maureen Brown. And you will swear your allegiance because Raphael is not responsible for the death of Camille Belcourt. I am. And _I_ am the rightful leader of the Manhattan vampire clan. And you _will_ submit to me. Submit or die."

Tara threw her hand over her mouth as she howled with laughter. "You?" she managed to gasp in between bouts of giggles. "You think anyone's going to believe a _brat_ like you killed one of the oldest of our kind?"

Maureen growled inhumanly, throwing herself at Tara and catching her off guard. The two of them fell to the ground, Tara underneath Maureen. Her fangs finally slipped out and she hissed at Maureen who, surprisingly, was holding her in place remarkably well. "You will all listen to me. You will all submit to me." Maureen smiled maliciously. "Or I'll kill you. Each and every last one of you."

And then, Maureen reared back her head, her fangs bared and ready to strike, and Tara wished, certainly not for the first time but now for the last time, that she could call to God for mercy. And then, after not even a moment's hesitation, Maureen jumped down, teeth sinking into Tara's neck, and ripped out her throat and, for the first time in nearly twenty five years, she felt coldness spread all over her body.

* * *

Simon slammed the kitchen door shut behind him, running his hands through his hair. He couldn't believe how _stupid_ he had been to have hope. Even Magnus thought—

His train of thought was derailed by Isabelle's voice in the doorway. "Simon?" she said. Her voice wasn't exactly soft, but it wasn't exactly harsh either. It was understanding while also not being condescending. "Look, you know Magnus didn't mean that."

"But he did," Simon replied desperately. "Tell me, Isabelle. Am I. . ." he paused for a moment before continuing. "Am I stupid to think that we're going to get her back this time?"

Isabelle moved to stand in front of him, so close that he could feel her breath tickling his cheeks. "You're never stupid for hoping, Simon." She brought up a hand to stroke his face, but he pushed it away.

"But what if I'm wrong? What if something happens to her? What if it's worse than just death—?"

"Simon, stop. You aren't helping yourself right now. Or Clary, for that matter."

"That's just _it_, though!" Simon exclaimed, tears filling his eyes. "_Nothing_ I can do will ever help her. She's always going to be in trouble. She's always going to be close to death, even if we somehow magically stop Sebastian—"

Isabelle grabbed Simon's face and, before he had even registered what was going to happen, she was kissing him. He tried to push her away, but she held on to him tightly, and he almost immediately stopped fighting, clinging to her as desperately as she clung to him. They were only like this for a few precious moments before a knock came on the door.

"Simon? Isabelle? Can I come in?" It was Maia.

Isabelle pulled away from Simon, blushing. "Yeah, sure."

The door opened slowly and Maia peered around it tentatively. "I'm not interrupting anything, am I?"

Simon smiled warmly at her. "Of course not. We were just. . .talking." He snuck a look over at Isabelle and winked at her.

"Good," Maia said, relieved, as she pushed the door the rest of the way open and walked into the room, closing the door behind her. "Are you okay, Simon?"

"I think I will be." He took Isabelle's hand, twining his fingers through hers. "How did you do, that by the way?" he asked Izzy. "You got me to calm down by kissing me."

Isabelle blushed a deeper red. "I don't know," she stuttered. "I just. . .did."

"Another one of your many talents." Simon pecked her on the cheek.

Maia smiled at them longingly, sitting on one of the stools that surrounded the kitchen island.

"Is something wrong?" Simon asked concernedly.

"No," she said quickly. "It's just. . . Well, I wish Jordan and I could be like that," she admitted.

"But you and Jordan are great together," asked Izzy, sitting on a stool next to Maia, Simon moving to sit on the other side of her. "What's wrong?"

Maia shrugged, leaning an elbow on the counter. "I don't really know. He's just been sort of distant lately. It hasn't just been with you, Simon. He's barely talked to me, he gets really angry all the time, and I feel like he just doesn't trust me anymore."

"Of course he trusts you, Maia," Isabelle said encouragingly. "Why would you think something like that?"

"Well. . . When we got the call to meet up here, we weren't together. Jordan got a call to go meet Praetor Scott off at the Praetor House. At least, that's what Jordan said. He didn't actually say too much. Just that Scott had a 'special job' for him. I don't believe him."

"Why don't you believe him?" Simon asked. "After what happened with Maureen and Nick, I'm sure the Praetor wanted to check in with their other agent in the city to see what was going on."

"That's not what I meant. I believe he went to meet Praetor Scott. But he wasn't going to the Praetor House." Upon seeing the questioning gazes directed toward her from Simon and Isabelle, she shrugged her shoulders and added, "When you guys called about meeting up here, Jordan still wasn't back, so I called his cell phone. When he didn't answer, I was really worried, especially after what had happened to Clary. So, I called the Praetor House and asked them if Jordan was still talking to Praetor Scott. They said Praetor Scott hadn't been there all day and had left early that morning and hadn't told anyone where he was going. I expected as much because of all of their secrecy, but I told them that it was urgent that I talked to Jordan as soon as possible and asked if he was still there. They said that he had never been there today or at all since I was with him last month."

"Why would he lie?" Simon inquired, not to Maia specifically, but to anyone who seemed to have the answer.

"I don't think he wanted to. He _wanted _to tell me something the whole car ride over, I could tell. I think the Praetor is telling him to keep it a secret."

"But what would be so bad that he couldn't even tell us?" said Isabelle. "I mean, we're his friends."

"Yeah, but the Praetor are his pack," Maia replied grimly. "Your pack is more important than your own family. Your friends always come second to a direct order from a pack alpha like Scott."

"So," Simon said determinedly. "Looks like we need to figure out what Jordan's hiding."

"And why Scott wanted him to keep it from us," Isabelle added.

* * *

After the others had disappeared into the kitchen, Magnus had left to go to the study—a feature that was new to this layout of Magnus's apartment, one that was full of Magnus's spellbooks—ignoring Alec's protests as he went.

"Magnus," Alec called after his, following close behind. "Magnus, this is insane. There has to be another way." He stopped and leaned back on the desk, staying out of Magnus's way as he sifted through the hundreds of books and papers on the shelves to find the ones he needed. Magnus didn't seem to be listening at all.

"Magnus!" Alec exclaimed in exasperation, holding out his hand to wrap it around Magnus's arm to stop him. His voice was pleading desperately. "Please, just listen to me. You can't just _walk into Hell_. And even if you did, how would you guarantee that you would come back alive?"

Magnus waited a moment, thinking it over, and then shrugged off Alec's hand. "It's a risk we have to take, Alexander. A risk that _I _am willing to take."

"Why? Why, after all of this, after everything we've been through, are you willing to throw all of it away, especially when you know that it probably won't work?"

"Is this about me visiting my father, Alec, or about what happened between us?" Magnus asked dryly, flicking through a thick leather-bound volume.

Alec was taken aback, back only hesitated a moment before he responded. "Maybe a little bit of both."

Magnus sighed and dropped the volume onto the floor of his study, along with a growing pile of other books he had already looked through and discarded. "Alec. . . I have to do this. Clary—"

"Yeah, I know, she's the one and only person you'd do this for, she's a weapon in Sebastian's hands, I get it. But what I don't get is why does it have to be you? I mean, I get it, it must be really hard to get to Hell and you are uniquely qualified to get there, but why can't you just open the portal or whatever it is you have to do and then let one of us go?"

"Because I just can't, Alexander. That's not the way things like this work and you know that." Magnus turned back to his shelves and his spellbooks, picking up yet another and flipping through its pages before determining that it, too, was useless, dropping it to the floor with the others."

"So that's it then?" said Alec, anger leaping into his voice. "You've just given up all other options? You're just going to walk willingly into your death without a second thought?"

"Why are you so positive that I'm going to die?" Magnus didn't look at him when he spoke. "He's my father, Alec, and I'm just going to ask a favor of him, he can either say yes or no. I very much doubt he'll try to kill me."

"But you don't know that! Magnus, have you even _considered_ anything else? Have you even _looked—_?"

"I've looked everywhere!" Magnus bellowed, turning to look at him. "This is my last resort Alec. Can't you see why I'm doing this? I've lived my life. I wouldn't even _care_ about the Shadowhunters or dying if it weren't for you! I am putting my life on the line to try to save this stupid world and you along with it!"

Alec was speechless. Magnus, finally finding the last text he needed, turned and headed back in the direction of the living room. He stopped in the doorway and spoke to Alec without facing him. "And you were wrong, by the way. Clary isn't the only person I'd do this for."

Magnus disappeared through the door, and Alec thought this over for a moment, realizing with a jolt exactly who Magnus had meant. Not Will or any of his other past relationships. Not Jace or any of the other Shadowhunters. There was only a handful of people who Magnus cared enough about to make such a sacrifice. And Alec knew, without Magnus expressly having said it that he made the list.

Alec joined Magnus in the living room, surprised to find that all the others, including Jace and Jordan, were already there, talking amongst themselves.

"Alright," Magnus, who was standing away from everyone else said, and the side conversations all died away. "So, who's ready to raise a little Hell?"


End file.
